











fju V° 







>N 
































; 



.*£" 

































£ 



V ,/> 
















'.. "^ V*' 



:/ . 











O 







Tc 



MAMMON; 

OB, 

COVETOUSNESS THE SIN OF THE 
CHRISTIAN CHURCH. 



BY THE REV. JOHN HARRIS, 

AUTHOR OF THE GREAT TEACHER, ETC. 



NEW-YORK: 

PUBLISHED BY G. LANE & C. B. TIPPETT, 

FOR THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, AT THE CONFERENCE 

OFFICE, 200 MULBERRY-STREET. 

James Collord, Printer. 
1844. 



I £4 



.. /■* t t W 



Gift 
Jttdge and Mrs/Isaac R, Hltt 
July 3, 1933 



ORIGINAL ADVERTISEMENT. 



Many of the wisest and best of men are of opinion that 
there is no sin so prevalent among professors of the gos- 
pel as the love of money y and yet there is no subject on 
which so little has been written well. The late Andrew 
Fuller says, " It will, in all probability, prove the eternal 
overthrow of more characters among professing people 
than any other sin, because it is almost the only crime 
which can be indulged, and a profession of religion at the 
same time supported." One hundred guineas, besides the 
profits of its publication,*will be presented to the author of 
the best essay on this subject. Preference will be given 
to the most scriptural, poignant, and affectionate appeal to 
the judgment and conscience of those who professedly re- 
cognise the authority of revelation on avaricious hoarding, 
and on unchristian-like expenditure to gratify the lust of 
the eye and the pride of life, while they avow their obli- 
gations to redeeming mercy, and profess that themselves 
and all they have is not their own, but belongs and must 
be accounted for to Him who has said, " Occupy till I 
come;" then "give an account of thy stewardship, for 
thou mayest be no longer steward." The work wanted is 
one that will bear on selfishness, as it leads us to live to 
ourselves, and not for God and our fellow-men. It is 



6 MAMMON. 

requested that reference may be made to the different esti- 
mates of man who blesseth, and of God who abhorreth, the 
covetous, Psalm x, 3 ; and to the tremendous conse- 
quences of accumulating property, as this sin is associated 
with the vilest of crimes which exclude from the kingdom 
of heaven, Eph. v, 5. The manuscript is to be sent to 
Dr. Conquest, 13 Finsbury-square, on or before the 1st 
of November, 1835, with a sealed letter containing the ad- 
dress of the writer. The Hon. and Rev. W. Baptist Noel 
and the Rev. Dr. Pye Smith have kindly engaged to be 
the arbitrators, and the award will be adjudged on the Is 
of May, 1836. 



CONTENTS. 



PART I. 

Page 

SELFISHNESS THE ANTAGONIST OP THE GOSPEL . . 17 

PART II. 

COVETOUSNESS THE PRINCIPAL FORM OF SELFISH- 
NESS IN ITS NATURE, FORMS, PREVALENCE, ESPE- 
CIALLY IN BRITAIN, DISGUISES, TESTS, EVILS, DOOM, 
AND PLEAS 52 



PART III. 

CHRISTIAN LIBER JLLITY EXPLAINED AND ENFORCED '89 



ADJUDICATORS' ADVERTISEMENT. 



In the early part of the last year, we were made ac- 
quainted with the proposal of a Christian friend, John 
Tricker Conquest, M.D., F.L.S., to confer a prize of 
one hundred guineas (which, with the accompanying 
expenses, amounts to the donation of about one hundred 
and fifty guineas) upon any essay produced in competi- 
tion, with the usual precautions to preserve the secrecy of 
the authors, upon the sin of covetousness ; particularly 
with regard to the duties of piety and beneficence, which, 
at the present time, are so incumbent on all men, but 
especially on those who would not abdicate the name of 
Christians. The request was made that we would be the 
umpires in determining to whom, in such a friendly com- 
petition, that prize would be the most righteously due. 
To that request we assented with many feelings of diffi- 
culty and reluctance ; but the opinion of duty induced us 
to suppress them. 

The requisite care was taken, that till we had given our 
decision, we should not have the slightest knowledge, or 
any ground of conjecture whatsoever, concerning the 
writers of the essays, which were no fewer than one 
hundred and forty-three. 

After much thought, and humbly seeking, by prayer 
and supplication, that we might be enabled to form a right 
judgment, we saw it to be our duty to declare the work 
now given to the public to be the one entitled to 



10 MAMMON 

Dr. Conquest's munificent prize. . But we did not arrive 
at this determination, without a high feeling of gratitude 
and admiration at the mass of sanctified talent which had 
been brought before our view. Many of the treatises, 
some of which are considerable volumes, are so replete 
with knowledge of the divine word, of the heart and cha- 
racter of man, and are so marked with comprehensive 
research, deep penetration, and Christian candour, as to 
have made us feel considerable regret at the thought of 
their being withheld from the public. We are conscien- 
tiously satisfied with the decision which we thus announce ; 
but it is, at the same time, our earnest desire that some 
others of the essays should be published. We are per- 
suaded that the subject is not exhausted ; and if, by the 
respective authors, our request for the publication should 
be granted, we trust the great cause of religion will be 
eminently served, and that the minds of those excellent 
persons will enjoy the delight which flows from extensive 
and the most important usefulness. 

J. PYE SMITH, 
BAPTIST W. NOEL. 

Near London, 
June 3, 1836. 



MAMMON: 

OR, 

COVETOUSNESS THE SIN OF THE CHURCH. 

PREFACE. 

The history of this Essay is sufficiently ex- 
plained by the advertisements prefixed. But 
concerning its plan, as the reader may possibly 
expect that the following pages are confined 
exclusively to the subject of covetousness, the 
writer may be permitted to state the reasons 
which have led him to introduce two other to- 
pics — Selfishness, and Christian Liberality. 

A glance at the original advertisement will 
show, that while the sin of covetousness was 
the principal object in the eye of the benevo- 
lent proposer, yet it was viewed and spoken of 
by him only as a part of the great system of 
selfishness. The writer felt himself, therefore, 
not merely permitted, but virtually required, to 
give this parent evil a primary place in his 
Essay. He is, however, free to confess, that 
had he not done so from a sense of obligation, 



12 MAMMON. PREFACE. 

he should most likely have done k from choice, 
since he deems it an appropriate introduction 
to the principal subject. On this account, then, 
selfishness, as the great antagonist of Chris- 
tianity, and the source of covetousness, forms 
the first part. 

Covetousness — the prevailing form of selfish- 
ness — is the second, and principal, part. Had 
the writer concluded with this part, he could 
not have considered the Essay complete unless 
a closing section had been added on the cure 
of the evil under consideration. In that case, it 
would have been obvious to insist on a variety 
of familiar prudential maxims. But the love of 
money can only be remedied by " the expulsive 
power of a new affection." If we would not 
have the ivy to creep on the ground, we must 
erect an object which it can embrace, and, by 
embracing, ascend ; and if we would detach the 
heart from embracing the dust, we must give to 
it another and a nobler object. The utter inef- 
ficacy of every thing short of this is evident. 
Hippocrates advised a consultation of all the 
physicians in the world for the cure of covet- 
ousness. The animadversions and appeals of 
Socrates not only failed to remedy the evil as it 
existed at Athens, but, judging from certain ex- 



MAMMON. PREFACE. 13 

pressions in Plato's Apology of Socrates, they 
were the means of enraging his enemies, and 
of procuring his condemnation. And about the 
time that the Apostle Paul was denouncing the 
sin in his epistle to Timothy, Seneca was de- 
crying the same evil, and composing his ethics ; 
but, as if to show the impotence of his own 
precepts, "he was accused of having amassed 
the most ample riches," — a circumstance which, 
though not the ostensible, was no doubt the real, 
cause of his finally falling a victim to the jea- 
lousy of Nero. But if such be the inefficacy of 
the precepts of the heathen philosopher, what 
is the prescription of the Christian apostle? 
Aware that the same means which destroy cu- 
pidity produce liberality, he does not concern 
himself so much with the death of covetousness 
as with the birth of charity. He says less about 
the sin when seeking its removal, than about 
the duty which is to displace it. He commands 
benevolence. He enjoins the " man of God" 
not only to flee the evil, but to follow the opposite 
virtues, and to flee the one by following the 
other. " O man of God, flee these things ; and 
follow after righteousness, godliness, faith, love, 

patience, meekness, Charge them that 

are rich in this world that they do good, 



14 MAMMON. PREFACE. 

that they be rich in good works, ready to dis- 
tribute, willing to communicate ; laying up in 
store for themselves a good foundation against 
the time to come, that they may lay hold on 
eternal life." 

Instead, therefore, of ending with a section 
on the cure of covetousness, the writer thinks 
he has copied inspired example, and increased 
the practical effect of the Essay, and better 
consulted the intentions of the party who has 
occasioned it, by adding a third part, on Chris- 
tian liberality. The cross of Christ is not 
merely a perpetual protest against the selfish- 
ness of the world ; it has given a new object to 
our affections, and a new motive to our obe- 
dience — that object is Christ, and that motive 
is the love we bear to him. Till this love pos- 
sess us, the sublimest maxims will fail to reach 
the heart ; but from the moment we begin to be 
actuated by it, cupidity and all the baser pas- 
sions are doomed to destruction. 

Diodorus Siculus relates that the forest of 
the Pyrenean mountains being set on fire, and 
the heat penetrating to the soil, a pure stream 
of silver gushed forth from the bosom of the 
earth, and revealed for the first time the exist- 
ence of those rich lodes afterward so cele- 



MAMMON. PREFACE. 15 

brated. Covetousness yields up its pelf for 
sacred uses as unwillingly as if it were ap- 
pointed to succeed the earth in the office of 
holding and concealing it ; but let the melting 
influence of the cross be felt, let the fire of the 
gospel be kindled in the church, and its ample 
stores shall be seen flowing forth from their 
hidden recesses, and becoming " the fine gold 
of the sanctuary." 

The title which the writer has adopted for the 
Essay designates covetousness the sin of the 
Christian church. He is aware that by bring- 
ing even an ordinary evil near to the eye, and 
prolonging one's gaze at it, it may go on swell- 
ing and enlarging in the apprehension, till it has 
come to fill the whole sphere of vision, to the 
exclusion and temporary oblivion of other evils 
of superior magnitude. That covetousness is 
not the only evil which the Christian church 
has to confess — that it is only one of many 
evils — he is quite sensible ; and he trusts that 
the view which he has taken of its surpassing 
enormity is by no means chargeable with the 
effect of lessening our convictions of those other 
evils. All the sins of the Christian church stand 
closely related ; by action and reaction they are 
constantly producing and strengthening each 



16 MAMMON. PREFACE. 

other ; and it is to its superior activity and in- 
fluence in the production of those other sins 
that cupidity owes its bad pre-eminence. If 
the love of money then be the root of the evils 
in question, a description of its deadly nature 
should have the effect, not of diminishing, but 
augmenting our aversion to its destructive fruits. 
The writer feels convinced that the best mode 
of acquiring a clear, comprehensive, and im- 
pressive view of all the existing defects of the 
Christian church, as a whole, is to view them 
first separately and in succession ; and that he 
who succeeds in laying open and correcting 
one of these defects, has gone far toward re- 
medying all the rest. With the sincere desire 
that he may be the means of inflicting if only a 
single blow on the root of all evil, and of thus 
aiding the growth of that plant " which is from 
above .... full of mercy and of good fruits," he 
would place this Essay at the feet of Him who 
deigns to commend the widow's mite. 



PART I. 

SELFISHNESS THE ANTAGONIST OF THE 
GOSPEL. 



SECTION I. 

THE UNIVERSE DESIGNED TO DISPLAY AND ENJOY 
THE LOVE OF GOD. 

" God is love :" — and the true theory of the 
universe is, that it is a vehicle or medium con- 
structed expressly for the circulation and diffu- 
sion of his love. Full of blessedness himself, 
his goodness burst forth, at first, into a celestial 
creation, replenished with bright intelligences, 
invested with the high prerogative of approach- 
ing as near to the fountain of excellence as 
created natures can, to derive their happiness 
immediately from himself, and to derive it to 
the full amount of their capacity for enjoyment. 

But heaven, with all its amplitude, was too 
confined for infinite love ; he must enlarge the 
sphere of his beneficence : again his unconfined 
goodness overflowed, and this terrestrial crea- 
tion appeared — an enlargement of heaven. On 
that occasion, however, he chose to diversify 
the form of his love in the production of man, 
— a creature whose happiness, though equally 
with that of angels derived from Himself, should 
2 



18 MAMMON. 

reach him through more indirect and circuitous 
channels. By creating, at first, one common 
father of the species, he designed that each in- 
dividual should feel himself allied to all the rest, 
and pledged to promote their happiness. And 
by rendering us necessary to each other's wel- 
fare, he sought to train us to an humble imita- 
tion of his own goodness, to teach us the divine 
art of benevolence — to find and fabricate our 
own happiness from the happiness of others. 

Now, if the former, the angelic creation, was 
meant to exemplify how much his creatures 
could enjoy ) the latter was intended to show 
how much they could impart; for he meant 
every heart and every hand to be a consecrated 
channel for his love to flow in. Had his great 
idea been realized, the world would have exhi- 
bited the glorious spectacle of a whole race in 
family compact; clothed in a robe of happiness, 
with charity for a girdle ; feasting at a perpe- 
tual banquet of beneficence ; hailing the acces- 
sion of every new-born member as the advent 
of an angel, an addition to their common fund 
of enjoyment ; and finding greater blessedness 
than that of passively receiving happiness in 
exercising the godlike prerogative of imparting 
it ; — a whole order of intelligent beings, having 
one heart and one mind ; a heart beating in con- 
cert with heaven, and diffusing, with every 
pulse, life, and health, and joy, to the remotest 
members of the body. The mere outline of the 
scene, as sketched by God in paradise, called 
forth audible expressions of his divine compla- 



MAMMON. 19 

cency ; on surveying it from the height of the 
excellent glory, he pronounced it good, and the 
light of his countenance fell full upon it. 



SECTION II. 

SIN, AS SELFISHNESS, IS THE FRUSTRATION OF 
THE DIVINE PLAN. 

But the awful invasion of sin frustrated the 
divine intention, destroyed it, even in its type 
and model. Man aspired to be as God; and 
from that fatal moment, his great quarrel with 
his Maker has been a determination to assert 
a state of independence altogether alien to his 
nature and condition. The standard of revolt 
was then erected, and the history of all his 
subsequent conduct has been the history of an 
insane endeavour to construct an empire, go- 
verned by laws, and replenished with resources, 
independent of God. The idolatry and sensual- 
ity, the unbelief, irreligion, and all the multiform 
sins of man, are resolvable into this proud and 
infernal attempt. Having by his apostacy cut 
himself off from God, he affects to be a god to 
himself, to be his own sufficiency, his own first 
and last. 

Such, however, is the intimate dependance 
of man on man, that it is impossible for him to 
attempt to realize this enormous fiction without 
being brought at every step into violent collision 
with the interests of his fellows. Love to God 



20 MAMMON. 

is the all- combining principle which was to hold 
each individual in adhesion to all the rest, and 
the whole in affinity with God ; the loss of that, 
therefore, like the loss of the great law of attrac- 
tion in the material world, leaves all the several 
parts in a state of repulsion to each other, as 
well as the whole disjoined from God. Having 
lost its proper centre in God, the world attempts 
not to find any common point of repose, but 
spends itself in fruitless efforts to erect an infi- 
nity of independent interests. Every kingdom 
and province, every family, every individual, 
discovers a propensity to insulate himself from 
the common brotherhood, and to constitute him- 
self the centre of an all-subordinating and ever- 
enlarging circle. Such is the natural egotism 
of the heart, that each individual, following his 
unrestrained bent, acts as if he were a whole 
kingdom in himself, and as if the general well- 
being depended on subjection to his supremacy. 
Setting up for himself, to the exclusion of every 
other being, he would fain be his own end, — the 
reason of all he does. 

Under the disorganizing influence of sin, then, 
the tendency of mankind is toward a state of 
universal misanthropy ; and were it not that 
some of their selfish ends can be attained only 
by partial confederations, the world would dis- 
band, society in all its forms would break up 
every man's hand would be turned into a wea- 
pon, and all the earth become a battle-field in 
which the issues to be decided would be as nu- 
merous as the combatants, so that the conflict 



MAMMON. 21 

could end only with the destruction of every 
antagonist. 

There is, be it observed, a wide difference 
between selfishness and legitimate self-love. 
This is a principle necessary to all sentient 
existence. In man, it is the principle which 
impels him to preserve his own life, and pro- 
mote his own happiness. Not only is it con- 
sistent with piety, it is the stock on which all 
piety, in lapsed man, is grafted. Piety is only 
the principle of self-love carried out in the right 
direction, and seeking its supreme happiness in 
God. It is the act or habit of a man who so 
loves himself that he gives himself to God. 
Selfishness is fallen self-love. It is self-love 
in excess, blind to the existence and excellence 
of God, and seeking its happiness in inferior 
objects by aiming to subdue them to its own 
purposes. 



SECTION III. 
ALL SIN IS SELFISHNESS. 

Accordingly, selfishness, as we have already 
intimated, is the universal form of human de- 
pravity; every sin that can be named is only a 
modification of it. What is avarice, but self- 
ishness grasping and hoaiding? What is prodi- 
gality, but selfishness decorating and indulging 
itself — a man sacrificing to himself as his own 
god 1 What is sloth, but that god asleep, and 



22 MAMMON. 

refusing to attend to the loud calls of duty ? 
And what is idolatry but that god enshrined — 
man worshipping the reflection of his own 
image 1 Sensuality, and, indeed, all the sins 
of the flesh, are only selfishness setting itself 
above law, and gratifying itself at the expense 
of all restraint. And all the sins of the spirit, 
are only the same principle impatient of contra- 
diction, and refusing to acknowledge superiority, 
or to bend to any will but its own. What is egot- 
ism, but selfishness speaking ? Or crime, but 
selfishness, without its mask, in earnest, and 
acting ? Or offensive war, but selfishness con- 
federated, armed, and bent on aggrandizing it- 
self by violence and blood ? An offensive army 
is the selfishness of a nation embodied, and 
moving to the attainment of its object over the 
wrecks of human happiness and life. " From 
whence come wars and fightings among you ? 
Come they not hence, even of your lusts?" And 
what are all these irregular and passionate de- 
sires, but that inordinate self-love which ac- 
knowledges no law, and will be confined by no 
rules — that selfishness which is the heart of 
depravity ? — and what but this has set the world 
at variance, and filled it with strife ? The first 
presumed sin of the angels that kept not their 
first estate, as well as the first sin of man, — 
what was it but selfishness insane 1 an irra- 
tional and mad attempt to pass the limits proper 
to the creature, to invade the throne, and to 
seize the rights, of the Deity ? And were we 
to analyze the very last sin of which we our- 



MAMMON. 33 

selves are conscious, we should discover that 
selfishness, in one or other of its thousand 
forms, was its parent. Thus, if love was the 
pervading principle of the unfallen creation, it 
is equally certain that selfishness is the reign- 
ing law of the world ravaged and disorganized 
by sin. 

It must be obvious, then, that the great want 
of fallen humanity, is, a specific against selfish- 
ness, the epidemic disease of our nature. The 
expedient which should profess to remedy our 
condition, and yet leave this want unprovided 
for, whatever its other recommendations might 
be, would be leaving the seat and core of our 
disease untouched. And it would be easy to 
show that in this radical defect consists the 
impotence of every system of false religion, 
and of every heterodox modification of the true 
religion, to restore our disordered nature to 
happiness and God. And equally easy is it to 
show that the gospel, evangelically interpreted, 
not only takes cognizance of this peculiar fea- 
ture of our malady, but actually treats it as the 
very root of our depravity, and addresses itself 
directly to the task of its destruction, — that, as 
the first effect of sin was to produce selfishness, 
so the first effect of the gospel remedy is to 
destroy that evil, and to replace it with benevo- 
lence. 



24 MAMMON. 



SECTION IV. 

THE GOSPEL, AS A SYSTEM OF BENEVOLENCE, 

OPPOSED TO SELFISHNESS. 

It is the glory of the gospel that it was cal- 
culated and arranged on the principle of restor- 
ing to the world the lost spirit of benevolence. 
To realize this enterprise of boundless mercy, 
Jehovah resolved on first presenting to mankind 
an unparalleled exhibition of grace — an exhi- 
bition which, if it failed to rekindle the extin- 
guished love of man, should, at least, have the 
effect of converting his angels into seraphs, and 
his seraphs into flames of fire. The ocean of 
the divine love was stirred to its utmost depths. 
The entire Godhead was — if with profound re- 
verence it may be said — put into activity. The 
three glorious subsistencies in the Divine Es 
sence moved toward our earth. Every attri- 
bute and distinction of the Divine Nature was 
displayed : the Father, the Son, and the Holy 
Spirit, embarked their infinite treasures in the 
cause of human happiness. 

* God so loved the world, that he gave his 
only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth 
in him should not perish, but have everlasting 
life." He could not give us more ; and the vast 
propensions of his grace could not be satisfied 
by bestowing less. He would not leave it pos- 
sible to be said that he could give us more : 
he resolved to pour out the whole treasury of 



MAMMON. 25 

heaven, to give us his all at once. " Herein is 
love ! " — love defying all computation ; the very 
mention of which should surcharge our hearts 
with gratitude, give us an idea of infinity, and 
replace our selfishness with a sentiment of ge- 
nerous and diffusive benevolence. 

Jesus Christ came into the world as the em- 
bodied love of God. He came and stood before 
the world with the hoarded love of eternity in 
his heart, offering to make us the heirs of all 
its wealth. He so unveiled and presented the 
character of God, that every human being should 
feel it to be looking on himself, casting an aspect 
of benignity on himself. " He pleased not him- 
self." He did nothing for himself ; whatever he 
did was for the advantage of man. Selfishness 
stood abashed in his presence. " He went about 
doing good." He assumed our nature expressly 
that he might be able to suffer in our stead ; for 
the distinct and deliberate object of pouring out 
its blood, and of making its soul an offering for 
sin. He planted a cross, and presented to the 
world a prodigy of mercy of which this is the 
only solution, that he " so loved us." " While 
we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." He 
took our place in the universe, absorbed our in- 
terest, opened his bosom, and welcomed to his 
heart the stroke which we had deserved. 

And in all he did, he thought of the world. 
He loved man as man ; he came to be the light 
and life of the world. He came and stood as 
the centre of attraction to a race of beings scat- 
tered and dissipated by the repulsive power of 



26 MAMMON. 

selfishness. He proposed by the power of the 
cross to " draw all men unto him." His heart 
had room for the whole race ; and, opening his 
arms, he invited all to come unto him. The 
whole of his course was a history of pure and 
disinterested benevolence ; one continued act 
of condescension ; a vast and unbroken descent 
from the heights of heaven, to the form of a 
servant, the life of an outcast, the death of a 
malefactor. His character is a study of good- 
ness — a study for the universe ; it is the con- 
ception of a Being of infinite amiableness seek- 
ing to engage and enamour the heart of a selfish 
world. The world, having lost the original idea 
of goodness and sunk into a state of universal 
selfishness, his character was calculated and 
formed on the principle of a laborious endeavour 
to recall the departed spirit of benevolence — to 
baptize it afresh in the element of love. 

The office of the Holy Spirit is appointed and 
concurs to the same end. The world could not 
be surprised out of its selfishness, and charmed 
into benevolence by the mere spectacle even of 
divine love. That love can be understood only 
by sympathy ; but for this, sin had disqualified 
us. According to the economy of grace, there- 
f}re, the exhibition of that love in God is to be 
made the means of producing love in us ; the 
glorious spectacle of love as beheld in God, is 
to be turned into a living principle in us. For 
this end, the holy, unconfined, and infinite Spi- 
rit came down. His emblem is the wind ; he 
came like a rushing mighty wind, came with a 



MAMMON. 27 

fulness and a power as if he sought to fill every 
heart, to replenish the church, to be the soul of 
the world, to encircle the earth with an atmo- 
sphere of grace as real and universal as the 
elemental air which encompasses and circulates 
around the globe itself, that whoever inhaled it 
might have eternal life. 

In the prosecution of his office he was to 
take of the things of Christ, and show them 
unto men. Heaven stooping to earth ; God be- 
coming man, dying upon the cross ; infinite 
benevolence pouring out all its treasures for hu- 
man happiness, — these were the things which 
he was to reveal, — the softening and subduing 
elements with which he was to approach and 
enter the human heart. In his hands, these 
truths were to become spirit and life. From 
the moment they were felt, men were to be 
conscious of a change in their relation both to 
God, and to each other. A view of the great 
love wherewith he had loved them, was to fill 
their minds with a grand and overpowering 
sentiment of benevolence, which should melt 
their obduracy, cause them to glow with gra- 
titude, and bind them fast to himself in the 
strongest bands of love. That love, with all 
the communicativeness of fire, was to extend to 
their fellow-men. Every weapon of revenge 
was to fall from their hands ; every epithet of 
anger was to die on their lips ; and where, be- 
fore, they saw nothing but foes, they were 
henceforth to behold magnificent objects of af- 
fection, immortal beings, whom it would be 



28 „ MAMMON. 

happiness to love, and godlike to bless. The 
love of Christ would constrain them; glowing 
and circulating in their spiritual system, like 
the life-blood in their hearts, it would impel 
them to be active for his glory, Having com- 
muned with the heart of infinite love, they were 
to go forth and mingle with their race, filled 
with a benevolence like that which brought 
their Lord from heaven. Placing themselves 
at his disposal, they were to find that they were 
no longer detached from the species, but re- 
stored and related to all around ; the sworn and 
appointed agents of happiness to the world. 

The institution of a church is only the con- 
tinuation and application of the great scheme of 
love. Its offices were not to terminate on itself. 
It was constructed on the principle of consoli- 
dating and facilitating the operations of divine 
benevolence upon the world. The Son of God 
—the great manifestation of that love— must 
personally withdraw from the earth ; but his 
church, consisting of the aggregate of all on 
whom that love had taken effect, would con- 
tinue to give visibility and activity to that love. 
He stopped not at the bare exhibition of his 
grace, but turned that exhibition into a means 
of implanting a kindred principle of love in the 
human heart ; he stopped not at the implanta 
tion of this principle, but instituted a church for 
the express purpose of employing it for the be- 
nefit of the world ; of employing it on the largest 
scale and with the greatest effect, and of thus 
conferring on it the power of propagating itself. 



MAMMON. 29 

In the Christian church every thing would 
conspire to keep alive in its members the new 
principle which Christ had brought into the 
world, and to give efficiency to its benign ope- 
rations. Love was the principle which would 
bring them together, which would draw them 
from their distant and detached positions, har- 
monize their jarring natures, and fuse all their 
hearts and interests into one. Converging from 
the most opposite points, they would meet at 
the cross ; and the principle which had drawn 
them to that would bind them to each other. 
Each would behold in every other a living me- 
morial of his Lord ; and see, in the grace of 
Christ to the whole, a token of that grace to 
himself in particular. Here, love, as an agent 
or instrument, either giving or receiving, was to 
find itself in perpetual exercise, and to behold 
its image reflected in every face. 

But love is diffusive ; it would not confine its 
offices to those only who could repay them ; 
bursting the limits of the church, it would seek 
the world. Every heart in which it glowed 
finding itself allied to every other Christian 
heart, and the whole feeling themselves rein- 
forced with the benevolence of heaven, would 
meditate the conversion of the world. As often 
as they approached the throne of grace, they 
would find themselves touching the springs of 
universal and almighty love, — and would they 
not yearn to behold these springs in activity 
for the world ? As often as they thought of 
that love embracing themselves, their own love 



30 MAMMON. 

would burn with ten-fold fervour ; the selfish- 
ness of their nature would be consumed, the 
most enlarged designs of benevolence would 
seem too small, the most costly sacrifices too 
cheap ; they would feel as if they must pre- 
cipitate themselves into some boundless field 
of beneficence ; as if they could only breathe 
and act in a sphere which knows no circum- 
ference. As often as they surveyed their infi- 
nite resources in Christ, and perceived that 
when all their own necessities were supplied 
those resources were infinite still, they would 
naturally remember the exigencies of others ; 
would feel that they had access to the whole, 
that they might instrumentally impart of that 
abundance to others. The feast would be pre- 
pared, the provisions infinite ; and when they 
were seated at the banquet, and contrasted that 
plenitude of food with the fewness of the guests, 
they would conceive a fixed determination not 
to cease inviting till all the world should be sit- 
ting with thern at the feast of salvation. The 
name they were to bear would perpetually re- 
mind them of him from whom they had derived 
it ; and would it be possible for them to have 
their minds inhabited by the glorious idea of 
Christ without receiving corresponding impres- 
sions of greatness ? — it would be associated in 
their minds with all things great, beneficent, 
godlike, impelling them to imitate to the utmost 
his diffusive goodness. But not only their name, 
from him they would have derived their nature, 
by necessity of nature, therefore, they would 



MAMMON. 3l 

pant to behold universal happiness. Not only 
would they feel that every accession to their 
number was an increase of their happiness ; as 
long as the least portion of the world remained 
unblessed and unsaved, they would feel that 
their happiness was incomplete. Nothing less 
than the salvation of the whole world would be 
regarded by them as the complement of their 
number, the fulfilment of their office, the con- 
summation of their joy. 

Thus the Christian church, like the leaven 
hid in the meal, was to pervade and assimilate 
the entire mass of humanity. At first, it would 
resemble an imperium in imperio, a dominion of 
love flourishing amidst arid wastes of selfish- 
ness ; but extending on all sides its peaceful 
conquests, it would be seen transforming and 
encompassing the world. Combining and con- 
centrating all the elements of moral power, it 
would only move to conquer, and conquer only 
to increase the means of conquest. It would 
behold its foes converted into friends; and then, 
assigning to each an appropriate station of duty, 
would bid him forthwith go and try upon others 
the power of that principle which had subdued 
his own opposition — the omnipotent power of 
love. Thus thawing, and turning into its own 
substance, the icy selfishness of humanity, the 
great principle of benevolence would flow 
through the world with all the majesty of a 
river, widening and deepening at every point 
of its progress by the accession of a thousand 
streams, till it covered the earth as the waters 



32 MAMMON. 

cover the sea. They who, under the reign of 
selfishness, had sought to contract the circle of 
happiness around them till they had reduced it 
to their own little centre, under the benign and 
expansive influence of the gospel, would not 
only seek to enlarge that circle to embrace the 
world, but to multiply and diffuse themselves in 
happiness to its utmost circumference. Feeling 
that good is indivisible ; that to be enjoyed in 
perfection by one, it must be shared and pos- 
sessed by all, they would labour till all the race 
were blended in a family compact, and were 
partaking together the rich blessings of salva- 
tion ; till, by their instrumentality, the hand of 
Christ had carried a golden chain of love around 
the world, binding the whole together, and all 
to the throne of God. 

It is clear, then, that the entire economy of 
salvation is constructed on the principle of re- 
storing to the world the lost spirit of love ; this 
is its boast and glory. Its advent was an era in 
the universe. It was bringing to a trial the 
relative strength of love and hatred ; — the dar- 
ling principle of heaven, and the great principle 
of all revolt and sin. It was confronting self- 
ishness in its own native region, with a system 
of benevolence prepared, as its avowed antago- 
nist, by the hand of God itself. So that, unless 
we would impugn the skill and power of its 
Author, we must suppose that it was studiously 
adapted for the lofty encounter. With this con- 
viction, therefore, we should have been justified 
in saying, had we been placed in a situation to 



MAMMON. 33 

say it, " Nothing but the treachery of its pro- 
fessed friends can defeat it : if they attempt a 
compromise with the spirit of selfishness, there 
is every thing to be feared ; but let the heaven- 
ly system be worked fairly, and there is every 
thing to be expected, — its triumph is certain." 

But has its object been realized? More than 
eighteen hundred years have elapsed since it 
was brought into operation, — has its design suc- 
ceeded? Succeeded ! Alas ! the question seems 
a taunt, a mockery. We pass, in thought, from 
the picture we have drawn of what the gospel 
was intended to effect, to the contemplation of 
things as they are, and the contrast appals us. 
We lift our eyes from the picture, and, like a 
person awaking from a dream of happiness to 
find the cup of wretchedness in his hand, the 
pleasing vision has fled. Selfishness is every- 
where rife and rampant. 

But why is it thus '{ why has the gospel been 
hitherto threatened with the failure of a mere 
human experiment ? When first put into acti- 
vity did it discover any want of adaptation to 
its professed purpose ? The recollection that 
God is its author forbids the thought. It is the 
wisdom of God, and the power of God. But be- 
sides this, as if to anticipate the question, and 
to suggest the only reply, — as if in all ages to 
agitate an inquiry into the apparent inefflcacy 
of the gospel, and to flash conviction in the face 
of the church as often as the question is raised, 
when first the gospel commenced its career, it 
triumphed in every place. No form of selfishness 
3 



34 KAjp^aar. 

could stand before it. It went forth conqueriiiFg 
and to conquer. "And all that believed were 
together, and had all things common ; and sold 
their possessions and goods, and parted them to 
all men, as every man had need." They went 
everywhere preaching the gospel. They fell 
that they held in their hands the bread of life 
for a famishing world, and they "could not but"' 
break and dispense it. The love of Christ con- 
strained them. As if his last command were 
constantly sounding in their ears, they burned 
to preach the gospel to every creature. They 
felt the dignity and glory of their position, — that 
they were constituted trustees for the world; 
executors of a Saviour who had bequeathed 
happiness to man ; guardians of the most sa- 
cred rights in the universe. In the execution 
of their godlike trust, death confronted them at 
every step : persecution, armed,- brought out all 
its apparatus of terror and torture, and planted 
itself full in their path ; — but none of these 
things moved them j they scarcely saw them ; 
they went on prosecuting their lofty task of ma- 
king the world happy, for they were actuated 
by a love stronger than death. The world was 
taken by surprise, — never before had it beheld 
such men, — every thing gave way before them y 
— city after city, and province after province, 
capitulated, — yet the whole secret, of their power 
was lave. Diversified as they were in mind, 
country, condition, age, one interest prevailed ; 
one subject of emulation swallowed up every 
other — which should do most for the enlarge- 



MAMMON. 35 

ment of the reign of love. A fire had been kin- 
dled in the earth, which consumed the selfish- 
ness of men wherever it came. 



SECTION V. 

SELFISHNESS, THE SIN OF THE WORLD, HAS LONG 
SINCE BECOME THE SIN OF THE CHURCH,, 

Again, then, we repeat the momentous inqui- 
ry; — and we would repeat it slowly, solemnly, 
and with a desire to receive the full impression 
of the only answer which can be given to it ; — 
what has prevented the gospel from fulfilling its 
first promise, and completely taking effect 1 what 
has hindered it from filling every heart, every 
province, the whole world, the entire mass of 
humanity, with the one spirit of divine benevo- 
lence ? why, on the contrary, has the gospel, 
the great instrument of divine love, been threat- 
ened, age after age, with failure 1 Owing, solely, 
to the treachery of those who have had the admin- 
istration of it ; owing, entirely, to the selfishness 
of the church. No element essential to success 
has been left out of its arrangements ; all those 
elements have always been in the possession 
of the church ; no new form of evil has arisen 
in the world ; no antagonist has appeared there 
which the gospel did not encounter and subdue 
in its first onset ; yet at this advanced stage of 
its existence, when it ought to be reposing from 



36 MAMMON, 

the conquest of the world, the church listens to 
an account of its early triumphs, as if they were 
meant only for wonder, and not for imitation ; 
as if they partook too much of the romance of 
benevolence to be again attempted;— now, when 
it ought to be holding the world in fee, it is 
barely occupying a few scattered provinces as 
if by sufferance, and has to begin its conflicts 
again. And, we repeat, the only adequate ex- 
planation of this appalling fact is, that selfish- 
ness, the sin of the world, has become the prevail- 
ing sin of the church. 

This statement, indeed, may, at first sight, 
appear inconsistent with the truth, that the 
church is the only depository and instrument of 
divine benevolence. But to reconcile the two, 
it is only necessary to remember that every 
component part of that church, each Christian 
heart taken individually, is only an epitome of 
the state of the world — partially sanctified and 
partially depraved — containing in it, indeed, a 
divine principle of renovation, and a principle 
which is destined finally to triumph, but which 
has, meanwhile, to maintain its ground by per- 
petual conflict, and, at times, to struggle even 
for existence. While, viewed collectively, the 
church may be regarded in the light of a vast 
hospital, filled with those who are all, indeed, 
under cure, but who have all to complain of the 
inveteracy of their disease, and of the conse- 
quent slowness of the healing process. It de- 
pends, therefore, on the degree to which they 
avail themselves of the means of recovery, whe- 



MAMMON. 37 

ther or not they shall become active and instru- 
mental in the recovery of their perishing fellow- 
men. And the charge alleged against them is, 
that they have not abandoned themselves to the 
divine specific, the great remedy of the gospel ; 
in consequence of which, they continue to la- 
bour all their lifetime under the disqualifying 
effects of their original disease, and their heal- 
ing instrumentality is entirely lost to the diseased 
and dying world. Selfishness, the disease of the 
world, is the prevailing malady of the church. 

It would be easy and interesting to trace the 
steps of that awful transition by which the church 
passed from the ardour of its first love, to the 
cold selfishness which it afterward exhibited. 
Viewed in its primitive state, it appeared a 
flaming sacrifice, offering itself up in the fires 
of a self-consuming zeal for the salvation of the 
world. But viewed again after the lapse of a 
few centuries, how changed the spectacle ! — it 
is offering up that very world to its own selfish- 
ness ! Its own fires are burnt out ; and it is seen 
kindling the strange fires of another sacrifice ; 
devoting and presenting the world as a victim 
at its various shrines of wealth, and pride, and 
power. From being an image of the divine 
disinterestedness and love, extorting the admi- 
ration of the world, and winning men to an 
imitation of its benevolence, it passed through 
the various stages of spiritual declension, calcu- 
lating consequences, growing indifferent to its 
peculiar duties, turning its influence into worldly 
channels, subordinating every thing sacred to 



38 MAMMON. 

worldly greatness and gain, till it had become 
a monstrous personification of an all-grasping 
selfishness, from which the world itself might 
derive hints and lessons on the art of self-ag- 
grandisement, but derive them in vain for its 
own escape. 

Instead, however, of enlarging on the early 
operations of selfishness, it will be more rele- 
vant to the design before us to show the fact 
and mode of its operation in the church at pre- 
sent. For long and triumphant as its reign has 
been, its days are numbered. The gospel is not 
to sustain a final defeat. The church of Christ 
is yet to realize the glorious intentions of its 
Heavenly Founder — to refill the world with 
love. Its failure hitherto is only to be regard- 
ed in the light of a severe, indeed, but tempo- 
rary, reverse. Its final victory is not contingent. 
The past has, at least, demonstrated its vitality ; 
the present is evincing its elasticity ; the future 
shall bear witness to its triumphs. So that in 
aiming to indicate the movements and opera- 
tions of its great antagonist, selfishness, we feel 
that we are contributing, in however humble a 
degree, to retrieve its lost honours, and to point 
it the way to victory. 



SIAMffiOX.. 



39 



SECTION VI. 
THE FORMS OF SELFISHNESS IN THE CHURCH. 

Of selfishness it may be said, as of its arche- 
type, Satan, that it " takes all shapes that serve 
its dark designs." One of the most frequent 
forms in which it appears is that of party spirit; 
and which, for the sake of distinction, may be 
■denominated the selfishness of the sect. Circum- 
stances, perhaps inevitable to humanity in its 
present probationary state, have distributed the 
Christian church into sections; but as the points 
of difference which have divided it are, for the 
most part, of much less importance than the vital 
points in which these sections agree, there is 
nothing in the nature of such differences to 
necessitate more than circumstantial division, 
there is every thing in their principles of agree- 
ment to produce and perpetuate substantial one- 
ness, and cordial love. But this the demon of 
selfishness forbids. It erects the points of dif- 
ference into tests of piety. It resents any real 
indignity offered by the world to the entire 
church, far less than it resents any supposed 
insult offered by other sections of the church to 
its own party. The general welfare is nothing 
in its eye, compared with its own particular 
aggrandisement. When Christians should have 
been making common cause against the world, 
selfishness is calling on its followers to arm, 
and, turning each section of the church into a 
battlemented fortress, frowns defiance on all the 



40 MAMMON. 

rest. It is blind to the fact that God, meanwhile? 
is employing them all, and smiling upon them 
all ; or, if compelled to behold it, eyeing it 
askance with a feeling which prevents it from 
rejoicing in their joy. When the church should 
have been spending its energies for the good of 
man, devoting its passions like so much conse- 
crated fuel, for offering up the great sacrifice 
of love which God is waiting to receive, it is 
wasting its feelings in the fire of unholy con- 
tention till that fire has almost become its native 
element. And thus Christianity is made to pre- 
sent to the eye of an indiscriminating world the 
unamiable and paradoxical spectacle, of a sys- 
tem which has the power of attracting all classes 
to itself, but of repelling them all from each 
other ; — forgetting, that in the former they see 
Christianity triumphing over selfishness, and in 
the latter selfishness defeating Christianity. 

Bigotry is another of the forms in which an 
inordinate self-love delights — the selfishness of 
the creed. In this capacity, as in the former, its 
element is to sow division where nothing should 
be seen but union — among the members of the 
family of Christ. The great scheme of mercy 
originated in a love which consented to over- 
look the enmity and fierce rebellion of its objects, 
or, rather, which looked on that enmity only to 
pity and provide for its removal ; but those who 
profess to have been the objects of that love, will 
not allow each other the liberty of the slightest 
conscientious difference, without resenting that 
difference as a personal and meditated affront ; 



MAMMON. 41 

as if the natural enmity of their hearts against 
God had only changed its direction, and had 
found its legitimate objects in his people. Un- 
der a pretence of zeal for God, bigotry violates 
the sanctuary of conscience, and creates an in- 
quisition in the midst of the church. Erecting 
its own creed into a standard of universal belief, 
it would fain call down fire from heaven, or 
kindle a furnace seven times hotter than an or- 
dinary anger would demand, for all who pre- 
sume to question its infallibility: thus justifying 
the world in representing the odium theologicum 
as a concentration of all that is fierce, bitter, 
and destructive, in the human heart. The Lord 
they profess to obey would have them to em- 
brace with a comprehensive affection all who 
exhibit the least traces of his image; but the 
strongest traits, the most marked conformity to 
his likeness, is a very uncertain introduction to 
their hearts compared with a likeness of creed. 
Nearly akin to this is, what, for the sake of 
convenience, may be denominated the selfish- 
ness of the pulpit : that fearful spirit which pre- 
sumes to limit what God meant to be universal 
— the overtures of redemption to a ruined world. 
Selfishness, indeed, in this repulsive form, is of 
comparatively limited existence ; and, as if by 
a judicial arrangement of Providence, it is com- 
monly, in our day, associated with errors and 
tempers so unamiable, that its own nature for- 
bids it to become general. It daringly under- 
takes to "number Israel ;" H to determine not 
only that few will be saved, but "who that few 



42 MAMMON. 

will be. Its ministers, faithful to their creed, 
stand before the cross, and hide it ; lest men 
should see it who are not entitled or intended 
to behold it ; — a danger which they jealously 
avoid, a responsibility they would tremble to 
incur. The gospel charters redemption to the 
world,- — but they have heard that there are 
divine decrees ; and until they can logically 
reconcile their views of the divine inflexibility 
with the universality of the divine compassion, 
the charter must stand over ; and souls perish 
unwept ; and the gospel of Christ, God's great 
gift, the adequate image of the infinitude of his 
love, be branded with the stigma of exclusive- 
ness. Put the affairs of the kingdom of Christ 
into their hands, — and, under the affectation of 
a pious dread of contravening the sovereign 
purposes of God, or of forestalling his appoint- 
ed time, — they would forthwith call home the 
agents of mercy in distant lands, break up the 
institutions, and stop the whole machinery, of 
Christian benevolence. In the midst of a fam- 
ishing world, they would establish a monopoly 
of the bread of life ; and, though assailed on all 
sides by the cries of a race in the pains of death, 
would not cease to exchange smiles radiant with 
self-complacency while continuing to cater to 
their own pampered appetites. " Lord, lay not 
this sin to their charge." "Father, forgive them, 
for they know not what they do." They know 
not that they are perverting that which was 
meant to be the destruction of selfishness, into 
'ts very alimen t and nurse ; they know not, that, 



MAMMON. 43 

next to the destruction of the gospel, they could 
~ot furnish Satan with a greater triumph than 
thus to silence its inviting voice, and to sup- 
press the agencies of its disciples. It is to arrest 
the course of the angel having the everlasting 
gospel and flying through the midst of heaven, 
and to confine him to their own contracted ho- 
rizon ; to demonstrate that nothing is too mon- 
strous to be apprehended from our nature when 
its selfish tendencies are the materials employ- 
ed, since it can construct a system out of the 
gospel itself, whose most appropriate title would 
be, " Christianity made selfishness." 

The selfishness of the pew is another form of 
the same pervading evil ; incomparably less 
pernicious, indeed, than the last mentioned, but 
far more extensive in its existence. This is 
that modification of selfish piety which lives 
only to be personally comforted; which, in all 
its reading and hearing, makes its own indi- 
vidual comfort, not a means, but an end ; and 
which, in pursuit of that end, goes up and down 
in the world, crying, " Give, give, and is never 
satisfied." The divine Redeemer describes the 
faithful shepherd as leaving the ninety and nine 
sheep for a time, to traverse the wilderness in 
quest of the one icanderer. But this unlovely 
spirit, reversing the touching picture, would 
have him neglect ninety and nine wanderers, 
to attend exclusively to one folded sheep. An 
epicure in comfort, it is impatient if the cup of 
consolation be removed from its lips for a mo- 
ment, though that moment was only seized to 



44 MAMMON. 

say to a famishing multitude, " Come now, for 
all things are ready." Devout only in little 
things, it cannot bear to have its mind diverted 
from its own personal and particular state, even 
though the sight to which its attention is called 
is the wants of a world. It will consent to 
listen just once a year to the claims of the 
perishing heathen ; but it feels as if more than 
that were too much, were pressing the subject 
unnecessarily on its attention. The amplitude 
of the divine love seeks to comprehend the uni- 
verse in its large and life-giving embrace, and 
calls on our affections to arise and follow it in 
its vast diffusion ; but this selfishness stays at 
home, builds itself in, sees no glory in that love 
but as it embraces a single point, and that point 
itself. 

Consistent with itself, this same spirit, if fol- 
lowed from public into private, is found to be- 
come the selfishness of the closet.- It penetrates 
even to the throne of God, and there where, if 
any where, a man should give himself up to 
what is godlike, there where he should go to 
engage an almighty agency in the behalf of his 
race, it banishes from his thoughts every inte- 
rest but his own, rendering him a suppliant for 
himself alone. It makes him as exclusively 
intent on his own individual advantage, as if 
spiritual, like worldly good, could not be shared 
by others without diminishing the portion to be 
enjoyed by himself. 

Let us place ourselves in imagination near to 
the throne of God, and what do we behold ? — a 



MAMMON. 45 

number of needy suppliants returning daily to 
his throne, a large proportion of whom are as 
unmindful of each other as if each came from a 
different world and represented a distinct race 
of beings ; as completely absorbed in their re- 
spective interests as if the welfare of the species 
depended on their individual success. There, 
where each should think of all, and feel him- 
self blended with the great whole, he virtually 
disowns kindred with all, deserts the common 
interest, and strives for himself alone. They 
come and lay their hand upon the springs of an 
agency, which, if put into motion, would diffuse 
happiness through the world ; but they leave 
that agency unsolicited and unmoved. The 
blessed God calls them into his presence, part- 
ly, that they might catch the radiance of his 
throne, and transmit it to a world immersed in 
the shadow of death ; but provided they catch a 
ray of that light for themselves, the gloom of the 
world may remain unrelieved. He points out 
the infinity of their resources in himself, gives 
them access to more than they need for them- 
selves, in order that they may go and instru- 
men tally administer to the wants of others. He 
calls them to his throne as a royal priesthood, 
as intercessors for the race ; but instead of im- 
ploring the divine attention to the wants of the 
world, each of them virtually calls it off from 
every other object to concentrate it upon a unit, 
and that unit himself. He has so laid his vast 
and gracious plans, that he can be enjoyed fully 
only in communion, in the great assembly of 



46 MAMMON. 

heaven ; but, in contravention of these plans, 
each one seeks to contract for himself sepa- 
rately with God,, as if he would fain engross to 
himself the whole of the divine goodness. What 
an affecting view is this of the power of selfish- 
ness ! and of the infinite patience of God in 
bearing with it ! 

But the form under which this Protean evil 
works more insidiously and extensively, per- 
haps, than in any which have been specified, is 
that of a worldly spirit ; — we will venture to call 
it the selfishness of the purse. 

It was the design of Christ, in redeeming and 
saving his people by the sacrifice of himself, to 
convince them that his interest and theirs were 
identical, that he and they were one, that to en- 
joy any prosperity distinct from the prosperity 
and glory of his kingdom was impossible. And 
by further proposing to employ their instrument- 
ality for the enlargement of his kingdom, he 
intended to give them an opportunity of evincing 
their love to his name, and of consecrating all 
the means they could abstract from the neces- 
sary demands of time, to the great cause of sal- 
vation. It was only warrantable to expect, that 
the exhibition of his love, and the claims of his 
kingdom, coming with full force upon their 
hearts, would overwhelm all worldly considera- 
tions ; that they would bring forth their wealth, 
and present it with the ardent devotion of an 
offering ; that henceforth they would desire to 
prosper in the world only that they might have 
the more to lay at his feet ; that they would in 



MAMMON. 47 

stantly devise a plan of self-denial, each one for 
himself, the object of which should be to aug- 
ment to the utmost their contributions to his 
cause ; that nothing but the fruits of such self- 
denial would be dignified w T ith the name of 
Christian charity ; and that the absence of 
such self-denial and the consequent fruits of it, 
would be regarded as a forfeiture of the Chris- 
tian name ; that the church, as " the bride, the 
Lamb's wife," would feel that she had, that she 
could have, no interest apart from his, that all 
her worldly possessions belonged to him, and 
that she would gratefully and cheerfully surren- 
der them to him, wishing that for his dear sake 
they had been ten thousand-fold more. 

To ask if such is the conduct of the Chris- 
tian church would be worse than trifling. "All 
seek their own, not the things which are Jesus 
Christ's." As if their interest and his were two, 
separate, opposite, irreconcilable things ; or, as 
if they had never heard of the grace, the claims, 
or even the name of Christ, the great majority 
of Christian professors may be seen, from age 
to age, pursuing their own ends as eagerly, and 
wasting their substance as selfishly, as the world 
around them. 

They seek their worldly prosperity. They 
know of nothing equal to that. Every thing is 
made to give way to that. The cause of Christ 
itself must wait for that, and is only held se- 
condary to it. What ! neglect any thing which 
tends to increase their gains ! — they would deem 
themselves mad to think of it ; even though the 



48 MAMMON. 

salvation of an immortal soul had to wait in 
consequence. And thus, while God has to com- 
plain of them as slothful and unfaithful in his 
service. Mammon can boast of them as among 
his most diligent and devoted servants. 

They seek their worldly ease and enjoyment. 
Self, self, is the idol to which they are perpe- 
tually sacrificing ; the monster, whose ravenous 
appetite they are perpetually feasting, and which 
eats up nearly all they have. So great is the 
cost of dressing and decorating this idol, of serv- 
ing and feasting it, of consulting its voracious 
appetites, and ministering to its various gratifi- 
cations, that but little is left for the cause of 
Christ. It is " a soul-wasting monster, that is 
fed and sustained at a dearer rate, and with 
more costly sacrifices and repasts, than can be 
paralleled by either sacred or other history ; 
that hath made more desolation in the souls of 
men, than ever was made in their towns and 
cities where idols were served with only human 
sacrifices, or monstrous creatures satiated only 
with such food ; or where the lives and safety 
of the majority were to be purchased by the 
constant tribute of the blood of not a few ! that 
hath devoured more and preyed more cruelly 
upon human lives than Moloch or the Mino- 
taur!"* Self is Dives in the mansion, clothed 
in purple, and faring sumptuously every day, 
— the cause of Christ is Lazarus lying at his 
gate, and fed only with the crumbs which fall 
from his table. 

* Howe. 



MAMMON. 49 

These are some of the leading forms of that 
demon of selfishness, whose name is Legion ; 
and which, in every age, has been the great 
antagonist of the gospel, threatening at times 
even to drive the principle of benevolence from 
the world. What but this is it which keeps the 
piety of the individual professor, joyless to him-* 
self? — which renders many a congregation of 
professing Christians, a company of inactive, 
useless men, assembling merely for their own 
religious ends, and separating only to pursue 
their own worldly ends, as regardless of the 
welfare of others as if none but themselves 
inhabited the earth ? — which turns the several 
denominations of which the Christian church 
is composed, into so many sources of mutual 
disquietude and weakness ? — and which makes 
that church the scorn of an infidel world, in- 
stead of its boast and glory ? It has defrauded 
millions of the offer of eternal life : — and what 
but selfishness is, at this moment, defrauding 
God of his glory long since due? and the church 
of its promised prosperity ? and the world of the 
redemption provided for it ? Well has self been 
denominated the great Antichrist ; for, though it 
may not be the Antichrist of prophecy which is 
to appear in the latter day, it is the Antichrist 
of every day, and every age ; the great usurper 
of the rights of Christ, the great antagonist and 
obstacle to his universal reign. " For all seek 
their own, not the things which are Jesus 
Christ's." 

That we do not exaggerate its pernicious 
4 



50 MAMMON. 

power, let it only be supposed that selfishness, 
in all the forms we have specified, has been 
banished from the church, — and what would 
ensue ? Each denomination of Christians, with- 
out sacrificing its distinctive character, would 
embrace and seek to ally itself as closely with 
all the rest as a community of interest, hope, 
and affection, could bind it. Each creed would 
have the necessity and divinity of brotherly love 
among its primary articles ; teaching the Chris- 
tian that a heart glowing with affection to " the 
brethren," exhales the incense most acceptable 
to God ; that such love is God in man. Devo- 
tion, no longer terminating in itself, would go to 
God, and plead for the world. Piety, no longer 
seeking after comfort as an end, would find it 
without seeking ; find it in the paths of Chris- 
tian activity and usefulness. Like the piety of 
apostolic times, it would be exempted from all 
the morbid complaints of a slothful religion, and 
would find its health and enjoyment in living to 
Christ. The whole church would be kindled 
into a sacrificial flame for his glory, into which 
every Christian would cast the savings of his 
self-denial as appropriate fuel for feeding a flame 
so sacred. A love which would yearn over the 
whole human race ; a zeal which would be con 
stantly devising fresh methods of usefulness, 
denying itself, and laying itself out for God ; 
and a perseverance which would never rest till 
the whole family of man should be seated at the 
banquet of salvation, — these would be the pre- 
vailing features of the entire Christian commu- 



MAMMON. 51 

irity. From such a scene the eternal Spirit 
could not be absent ; its very existence would 
demonstrate his presence. The tabernacle of 
God would be with men upon the earth. God 
would bless us,, and all the ends of the earth 
would fear him. 

Now of all this, selfishness is defrauding us. 
It is keeping the universe in suspense. Like a 
spring-season held back by the chilling breath 
of winter, all things are waiting for the desired 
change ; when the Christian church, bursting 
forth as in the vernal beauty of its youth, shall 
become another paradise, full of melody, in- 
cense, and joy. 



52 MAMMON. 



PART II. 

COVETOUSNESS — THE PRINCIPAL FORM OF SELFISH- 
NESS,— IN ITS NATURE, FORMS, PREVALENCE, ESPE- 
CIALLY IN BRITAIN, DISGUISES, TESTS, EVILS, DOOM, 
AND PLEAS. 



SECTION I. 
THE NATURE OF COVETOUSNESS. 

If selfishness be the prevailing form of sin, 
covetousness may be regarded as the prevailing 
form of selfishness. This is strikingly inti- 
mated by the Apostle Paul, when describing the 
"perilous times" of the final apostacy, he repre- 
sents selfishness as the prolific root of all the 
evils which will then prevail, and covetousness 
as its first fruit. " For men shall be lovers of 
their own selves, covetous." 

In passing, therefore, from the preceding out- 
line of selfishness in general, to a consideration 
of this form of it in particular, we feel that we 
need not labour to magnify its importance. A 
very little reflection will suffice to show that, 
while the other forms of selfishness are partial 
in their existence, this is universal ; that it lies 
in our daily path, and surrounds us like the at- 
mosphere ; that it exceeds all others in the 
plausibility of its pretences, and the insidious- 
ness of its operations ; that it is, commonly, the 
last form of selfishness which leaves the heart ; 



MAMMON. 53 

and that Christians, who have comparatively 
escaped from all the others, may still be uncon- 
sciously enslaved by this. If there be ground 
to fear that covetousness " will, in all proba- 
bility, prove the eternal overthrow of more cha- 
racters among professing people than any other 
sin, because it is almost the only crime which 
can be indulged, and a profession of religion at 
the same time supported ;" and if it be true also, 
that it operates more than any other sin to hold 
the church in apparent league with the world, 
and to defeat its design, and rob it of its ho- 
nours, as the instrument of the world's conver- 
sion, surely nothing more can be necessary to 
reveal the appalling magnitude of the evil, and 
justify every attempt that may be made to sound 
an alarm against it. 

Covetousness denotes the state of a mind from 
which the Supreme Good has been lost, labouring 
to replace him by some subordinate form of en- 
joyment. The determinate direction which this 
craving takes after money, is purely accidental ; 
and arises from the general consent of society, 
that money shall be the representative of all 
property ; and, as such, the key to all the ave- 
nues of worldly enjoyment. But as the exist 
ence of this conventional arrangement renders 
the possession of some amount of property in- 
dispensable, the application of the term covetous- 
ness has come to be confined almost exclusively 
to an inordinate and selfish regard for money. 

Our liability to this sin arises, we say, from the 
perception that " money answereth all things." 



54 MAMMON. 

Riches in themselves, indeed, are no evil. Nor 
is the bare possession of them wrong. Nor is 
the desire to possess them sinful, provided that 
desire exist under certain restrictions. For in 
almost every stage of civilization money is re- 
quisite to procure the conveniences, and even 
the necessaries of life ; to desire it therefore as 
the means of life, is as innocent as to live. In 
its higher application it may be made the instru- 
ment of great relative usefulness ; to seek it, 
then, as the means of doing good, is not a vice, 
but a virtue. But perceiving that money is so 
important an agent in society ; — that it not only 
fences off the wants and w r oes of poverty, but 
that like a centre of attraction it can draw to 
itself every object of worldly desire from the 
farthest circumference ; — the temptation arises 
of desiring it inordinately ; of even desiring it 
for its own sake ; of supposing that the instru- 
ment of procuring so much good must itself pos- 
sess intrinsic excellence. From observing that 
gold could procure for us whatever it touches, 
we are tempted to wish, like the fabled king, that 
whatever we touch might be turned into gold. 

But the passion for money exists in various 
degrees, and exhibits itself in very different as- 
pects. No classification of its multiplied forms, 
indeed, can, from the nature of things, be rigor- 
ously exact. All its branches and modifications 
run into each other, and are separated by grada- 
tions rather than by lines of demarcation. The 
most obvious and general distinction, perhaps, 
is that which divides it into the desire of getting 






MAMMON. 55 

as contradistinguished from the desire of keep- 
ing that which is already possessed. But each 
of these divisions is capable of subdivision. 
Worldliness, rapacity, and an ever- craving, all- 
consuming prodigality, may belong to the one ; 
and parsimony, niggardliness, and avarice, to 
the other. The word covetousness, however, is 
popularly employed as synonymous with each of 
these terms, and as comprehensive of them all. 



SECTION II. 

FORMS OF COVETOUSNESS. 

By worldliness we mean cupidity in its ear- 
liest, most plausible, and most prevailing form : 
not yet sufficiently developed to be conspicuous 
to the eye of man, yet sufficiently characteristic 
and active to incur the prohibition of God. It 
is that quiet and ordinary operation of the prin- 
ciple which abounds most with excuses ; which 
is seldom questioned even by the majority of 
professing Christians ; which the morality of 
the world allows, and even commends ; which 
may live, unrebuked, through a whole life, un- 
der the decent garb of frugality, and honest 
industry ; and which thus silently works the de- 
struction of multitudes without alarming them. 

Rapacity is- covetousness grasping; "making 
haste to be rich." This is the true " wolf in the 
breast," ever feeding, and yet ever craving j so 



56 MAMMON. 

ravenous that nothing is like it except death and 
the grave. It is a passion which compels every 
other feeling to its aid ; the day seems too short 
for it ; success is looked on as a reward and a 
spur ; failure, as a punishment for some relaxa- 
tion of the passion : the wealth of others seems 
to reproach it ; the poverty of others to warn it. 
Determined to gratify itself, it overlooks the mo- 
rality of the means, despises alike the tardiness 
of industry, and the scruples of integrity, and 
thinks only of the readiest way to success. 
Impatient of delay, it scorns to wait for intima- 
tions of the divine will, or to watch the move- 
ments of Providence ; and the only restraints 
which it acknowledges — though many of these 
it would gladly overleap — are such as our fears 
of each other have erected into laws, for the 
express purpose of confining it within bounds. 

Parsimony is eovetousness parting with its 
life-blood. It is the frugality of selfishness ; the 
art of parting with as little as possible. Of this 
disposition it can never be said that it gives, but 
only that it capitulates ; its freest bestowments 
have the air of a surrender made with an ill 
grace. 

Avarice is eovetousness hoarding. It is the 
love of money in the abstract, or, for its own 
sake. Covetousness, in this monstrous form, 
indeed, is but of rare occurrence. For as mo- 
ney is a compendium of all kinds of worldly 
good, or so much condensed world, it is mostly 
desired for the sake of the gratifications which 
it can purchase ; it is sought and valued as a 



MAMMON. 57 

kind of concentrated essence which can be 
diluted at pleasure, and adapted to the taste 
of every one who possesses it. But avarice is 
content with the bare possession of the essence ; 
stopping short at the means, it is satisfied with- 
out the end. By a strange infatuation it looks 
upon gold as its own end ; and, as the orna- 
ments which the Israelites transferred into the 
hands of Aaron became a god, so gold, in the 
hand of avarice, becomes an ultimate good ; to 
speak of its utility, or its application to practical 
purposes, would be almost felt as a profanation. 
Other vices have a particular view to enjoyment, 
(falsely so called,) but the very term miser is a 
confession of the misery which attends avarice ; 
for, in order to save his gold, the miser robs 
himself; 

" Throws up his interest in both worlds, 
First starved in this, then damn'd in that to come." 

He cannot be said to possess wealth ; wealth 
possesses him ; or else he possesses it like a 
fever which burns and consumes him as if mol- 
ten gold were circulating in his veins. Many 
vices wear out and are abandoned as age and 
experience increase, but avarice strikes deeper 
root as age advances ; and, like the solitary tree 
of the desert, flourishes amidst sterility where 
nothing else could survive. Other passions are 
paroxysms, and intermit ; but avarice is a dis- 
temper which knows no intervals. Other pas- 
sions have their times of relaxation, but avarice 



58 MAMMON. 

is a tyrant which never suffers its slaves to rest. 
It is the fabled dragon with its golden fleece 
and with lidless and unslumbering eyes it keeps 
watch and ward night and day. 

Prodigality, though directly opposed to avarice 
or hoarding, is quite compatible with cupidity ; 
and is, indeed, so frequently found in combina- 
tion with it, that it may be regarded as one of 
its complex forms. The character which Sal- 
lust gives of Catiline, that " he was covetous 
of other men's wealth, while he squandered his 
own," is one of very common occurrence. And 
we notice it here to show, that although men 
may occasionally be heard pleading their ex* 
travagance to clear themselves from the charge 
of cupidity, it yet originates in the same cause, 
produces precisely the same effects, employs 
the same sinful means of gratification, and in- 
curs the same doom. They must be covetous, 
that they may be prodigal : one hand must col- 
lect, that the other may have wherewith to 
scatter: covetousness, as the. steward to prodi- 
gality, must furnish supplies, and is often goad- 
ed into rapacity that it may raise them. Thus 
prodigality strengthens covetousness by keep- 
ing it in constant activity,, and covetousness 
strengthens prodigality by slavishly feeding its 
voracious appetite. Taking possession of the 
heart, " they divide the man between them," 
each in turn becoming cause and effect. But 
prodigal self-indulgence not only produces cu- 
pidity, it stands to every benevolent object in 



MAMMON. 59 

the same relation as avarice — it has nothing to 
give. A system of extravagant expenditure ren- 
ders benevolence impossible, and keeps a man 
constantly poor toward God. 



SECTION III. 
PREVALENCE OF COVETOUSNESS. 

To the charge of covetousness, under one or 
Other of these various forms, how large a pro- 
portion of mankind, and even of professing 
Christians, must plead guilty! It is true, in- 
deed, that all these modifications of covetous- 
ness cannot coexist in the same mind, for some 
of them are destructive of each other : and such 
is the anxiety of men to escape from the hateful 
charge entirely, that, finding they are exempt 
from some of its forms, they flatter themselves 
that they are guiltless of all. But this delusion, 
in most cases, only indicates the mournful pro- 
bability, that the evil, besides having taken up 
its abode within them, has assumed there a form 
and a name so plausible, as not merely to escape 
detection, but even to secure to itself the credit 
of a virtue, and the welcome of a friend. 

In the eyes of the world a man may acquire, 
and through a long life maintain, a character for 
liberality and spirit, while his heart all the time 
goeth after his covetousnsss. His hand, like a 
channel, may be ever open ; and because his 



60 MAMMON. 

income is perpetually flowing through it, the 
unreflecting world, taken with appearances, hold 
him up as a pattern of generosity ; but the en- 
tire current is absorbed by his own selfishness. 
That others are indirectly benefited by his pro- 
fusion, does not enter into his calculations ; he 
thinks only of his own gratification. It is true 
his mode of living may employ others ; but he 
is the idol of the temple, they are only priests 
in his service ; and the prodigality they are 
empowered to indulge in, is only intended to 
decorate and do honour to his altar. To main- 
tain an expensive establishment, to carry it high 
before the world, to settle his children respect- 
ably in life, to maintain a system of costly self- 
indulgence, — these are the objects which swal- 
low up all his gains, and keep him in a constant 
fever of ill-concealed anxiety ; filling his heart 
with envy and covetousness at the sight of 
others' prosperity ; rendering him loath to part 
with a fraction of his property to benevolent 
purposes ; making him feel as if every farthing 
of his money so employed were a diversion of 
that farthing from the great ends of life ; and 
causing him even to begrudge the hallowed 
hours of the sabbath as so much time 'lost (if, 
indeed, he allows it to be lost) to the cause of 
gain. New channels of benevolence may open 
around him in all directions ; but as far as he is 
concerned, those channels must remain dry, for, 
like the sands of the desert, he absorbs all the 
bounty which Heaven rains on him, and still 
craves for more. What but this is commonly 



MAMMON. 61 

meant by the expression concerning such a 
man, that "he is living up to his income?" 
The undisguised interpretation is, that he is en- 
grossing to himself all that benevolence which 
should be diffused throughout the world ; that 
he is appropriating all that portion of the divine 
bounty with which he has been instrusted, and 
which he ought to share with the rest of man- 
kind ; and that he is thus disabling himself for 
all the calls and claims of Christian charity. 
Alas ! that so large a proportion of professing 
Christians should be, at this moment, system- 
atically incapacitating themselves for any thing 
more than scanty driblets of charity, by their 
unnecessary expenditure, their extravagant self- 
indulgence. Where avarice, or hoarding, has 
slain its thousands, a lavish profusion has slain 
its tens of thousands; and where the former 
robs the cause of God of a mite, the latter robs 
it of a million. 

A man may defy a charge of avarice, in the 
aggravated sense of that term, to be substan- 
tiated against him. Indeed, a miser, in the 
sense in which the character is ordinarily por- 
trayed, is a most unusual prodigy; a monster 
rarely found but in description. " His life is 
one long sigh for wealth : he would coin his 
life-blood into gold : he would sell his soul for 
gain." Now, the injurious effect of such exag- 
gerated representations is, that men, conscious 
that their parsimony does not resemble such a 
character, acquit themselves of the charge of 
covetousness altogether. Unable to recognise 



62 MAMMON. 

in this disguised and distorted picture of the 
vice their own likeness, they flatter themselves 
into a belief of their entire innocence ; as if the 
vice admitted of no degrees, and none were 
guilty if not as guilty as possible. 

But though a man may not merit to be deno- 
minated avaricious, he may yet be parsimonious. 
He may not be a Dead sea, ever receiving, and 
never imparting ; but yet he may be as unlike 
the Nile when, overflowing its banks, it leaves 
a rich deposite on the neighbouring lands. His 
domestic economy is a system of penuriousness, 
hateful to servants, visiters, and friends ; from 
which every thing generous has fled ; and in 
which even every thing necessary comes with 
the air of being begrudged, of existing only by 
sufferance. In his dealings with others, he 
seems to act under the impression that mankind 
have conspired to defraud him, and the conse- 
quence is that his conduct often amounts to a 
constructive fraud on mankind. He is delighted 
at the idea of saving ; and exults at the acqui- 
sition of a little pelf with a joy strikingly dis- 
proportionate to its worth. He looks on every 
thing given to charity as so much lost, thrown 
away, and for which there will never be any 
return. If a benevolent appeal surprise him 
into an act of unusual liberality, he takes ample 
revenge by keen self-reproaches, and a determi- 
nation to steel himself against all such assaults 
in future. Or else, in his relenting moments, 
and happier moods, he plumes himself, and 
iooks as complacently on himself for having 



MAMMON. 63 

bestowed a benevolent mite, as if he had per- 
formed an act of piety for which nothing less 
than heaven would be an adequate reward. His 
soul not only never expands to the warmth of 
benevolence, but contracts at the bare proposal, 
the most distant prospect, of sacrifice. His pre- 
sence in any society met for a charitable pur- 
pose would be felt like the vicinity of an iceberg, 
freezing the atmosphere, and repressing the 
warm and flowing current of benevolence. The 
eloquent think it a triumph to have pleaded the 
cause of mercy before him unabashed ; and the 
benevolent are satisfied if they can only bring 
away their sacred fire undamped from his pre- 
sence. He scowls at every benevolent project 
as romantic, as suited to the meridian of Utopia, 
to a very different state of things from what is 
known in this world. He hears of the time 
when the church will make, and will be neces- 
sitated to make, far greater sacrifices than at 
present, with conscious uneasiness, or resolved 
incredulity. His life is an economy of petty 
avarice, constructed on the principle of parting 
with as little as possible, and getting as much, 
— a constant warfare against benevolence. 

But a person may be free from the charge 
of parsimony, and yet open to the accusation 
of worldliness. His covetousness may not be 
so determined as to distinguish him from the 
multitude, but yet sufficiently marked to show 
that his treasure is not in heaven. He was 
born with the world in his heart, and nothing 
has yet expelled it. He may regularly receive 



64 MAMMON. 

the seed of the gospel, but the soil is preoccu- 
pied ; " the cares of this world, and the deceit- 
fulness of riches, choke the word, and render it 
unfruitful." He w r ill listen to an ordinary expo- 
sition of the vanity of wealth as a matter of 
course, and will appear to give it his entire as- 
sent ; and yet, immediately after, he resumes 
his pursuit of that vanity with an avidity which 
seems increased by the temporary interruption. 
But let the exposition be more than usually 
vivid, let it aim at awakening his conviction of 
the dangers attending wealth, let it set forth the 
general preferableness of competence to afflu- 
ence, and it will be found to be disturbing the 
settled order of his sentiments. A representa- 
tion of the snares of wealth is regarded by him 
as the empty declamation of a man who has 
been made splenetic by disappointments, or 
who has been soured by losses ; who has never 
known the sweets of wealth, or, having known, 
has lost them, and would gladly recover them 
again if he could. He never listens to such 
representations as — that unsanctified riches are 
only the means of purchasing disappointment ; 
that the possessor suffers rather than enjoys 
them ; that his wants multiply faster than his 
means — without an inward smile of skepticism, 
a conscious feeling of incredulity ; a feeling 
which, if put into words, would express itself 
thus, " O, if I might be but made rich, I would 
make myself happy. Tell me not of dangers ; 
cheerfully would I risk them all, only bless me 
with wealth." And his life is arranged, and 



MAMMON. 65 

spent, in strict accordance with this confession. 
In his vocabulary, wealth means happiness — the 
chief good. And in his reading of the Holy 
Scripture, the declaration of our Lord is re- 
versed, as if he had said — A man's life consist- 
ed! in the abundance of the things which he 
possesseth. 

And this representation, be it observed, ap- 
plies to the man whose ideas of wealth are 
limited to a few hundreds, as much as to him 
whose wishes aspire to hundreds of thousands. 
The poor man is apt to imagine that covetous- 
ness is a subject in which he has no interest- 
that it is a sin peculiar to the rich. It is true, 
indeed, that he may not plan for riches, because 
he may not be able to plan much for any thing ; 
calculation is out of his sphere ; it requires too 
much thought for him. And it is true, also, that 
the prosperous are more liable to indulge cu- 
pidity than the poor ; for if it cannot be said 
with confidence that poverty starves the pro- 
pensity, it may certainly be affirmed that pros- 
perity feeds it; often awakening it at first from 
its dormant state, and turning every subsequent 
instance o^ gain into a meal to gratify its vora- 
cious appetite. 

But there is no sphere so humble and con- 
tracted as to secure a man against its intrusion. 
Like a certain class of plants, it seems only to 
ask for room, though it should be on a rock, and 
for the common air, in order to thrive. The 
man who flatters himself that he has " retired 
from the world," may still be carrying this 
5 



66 MAMMON. 

abridgment of the world's influences about with 
him in his heart. And, by artfully soliciting the 
poor man under the disguise of industry, of fru- 
gality, or of providing for his family, it may 
have yoked him as a captive to his car, though 
he may appear to be only keeping poverty at 
bay. He need not plunge into the ocean in 
order to drown himself — a very shallow stream 
will suffice, if he chooses to lie prostrate in it ; 
and the desire of the smallest gain, if his heart 
be immersed in the pursuit, will as certainly 
" drown him in perdition," as if the object of 
his cupidity were the wealth of a Croesus. He 
takes his character, and incurs his danger, not 
from the magnitude of his object, but from the 
unceasing and undivided manner in which he 
pursues it. Though his worldliness may be 
quiet and equable in its operation, yet, like an 
ever-flowing stream, it gradually wears his 
whole soul into one channel, which drains off 
his thoughts and affections from higher ground, 
and carries them all in a steady current in that 
single direction ; while his occasional impres- 
sions of a religious nature only ripple its sur- 
face for a moment, and vanish, without in the 
least retarding its onward course. 

But to specify all the forms of covetousness, 
and to trace it in all its modifications, is impos- 
sible. Capable of combining with all motives, 
and penetrating all actions, in its symptoms or 
its practice it is everywhere to be found. It 
acknowledges no conqueror but the grace of 
God, and owns no limit but that of the world. 



MAMMON. 67 

Our great epic poet, with equal sublimity and 
propriety, gives to it an existence even beyond 
this world. Recording the history of Mammon 
— the Scripture personification of cupidity — he 
describes him as 

" the least erected spirit that fell 
From heaven : for even in heaven his looks and thoughts 
Were always downward bent ; admiring more 
The riches of heaven's pavement, trodden gold, 
Than aught divine or holy else, enjoy'd 
In vision beatific." 

The moral of which is, that covetousness is one 
of the eldest-born of sin, and a prime leader in 
the satanic empire of evil ; that no nature is too 
lofty, no place too sacred, for its presence ; that, 
being a universal passion, no enterprise is too 
daring for it to attempt, no sphere too extended 
for its range. 

One of the great objects of the personal minis- 
try of our Lord himself, appears to have been 
to make us aware of the universality of this 
passion, and to save us from it. Sin having 
expelled the love of God from the heart, he 
saw that the love of the world had rushed in to 
fill up the vacuum ; that the desire of riches, as 
an abstract of all other worldly desires, has be- 
come a universal passion, in which all other 
appetites and passions concur, since it is the 
readiest means to gratify them all. To the eye 
of an ordinary observer, the generation of that 
day appeared to be only laudably employed in 
their respective avocations ; but, penetrating the 
thin disguises of custom, he beheld the world 
converted into a mart in which every thing was 



68 MAMMON. 

exposed for sale. To a common observer, the 
confused pursuits and complicated passions of 
mankind might .have presented an aspect of 
ever-shifting forms, as incapable of classifica- 
tion as the waves of the sea ; but to his com- 
prehensive view there appeared but two great 
classes, in which all minor distinctions were 
merged — the servants of God, and the servants 
of Mammon. To his unerring and omniscient 
glance, the whole world appeared to be en- 
grossed in a laborious experiment to effect a 
compromise between these two claimants : but 
against such an accommodation he enters his 
divine protest ; affirming, with the solemnity 
and confidence of one who knew that though 
the experiment had been made and repeated in 
every form and in every age, it had failed as 
often as it had been made, and will prove eter- 
nally impracticable; "Ye cannot serve God and 
mammon." To an ordinary observer, the charge 
of covetousness could only be alleged against a 
few individuals ; but he tracked it through the 
most unsuspected windings, laid open some of 
its most concealed operations, and showed that, 
like the elemental fire, it is not only present 
where it is grossly visible, but that it is all-per- 
vading, and coextensive with human depravity. 
Entering the mart of the busy world, where 
nothing is heard but the monotonous hum of the 
traders in vanity, he lifts up his voice like the 
trump of God, and seeks to break the spell 
which infatuates them, while he exclaims, 
" What shall it profit a man, if he gain the 



MAMMON. 69 

whole world, and lose his own soul ? or what 
shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" 
Proceeding to the mansion of Dives, he shows 
selfishness there, clothed in purple and fine 
linen, and faring sumptuously every day, — a 
spectacle at which the multitude stands in 
earnest and admiring gaze, as if it drew in 
happiness at the sight, — but Lazarus unheeded 
perishes at the gate. Approaching the house 
of prosperity, he bids us listen to the soliloquy 
of its worldly inhabitant, " I will pull down my 
barns, and will build greater" — a resolution 
which the world applauds — " And I will say to 
my soul, Soul, thou hast much goods laid up 
for many years ; take thine ease, eat, drink, 
and be merry" — a prospect of happiness which 
the world envies : but God is not in all his 
thoughts ; besides his wealth, he knows no god. 
Passing into the circle of devotion, he pointed 
out the principle of covetousness there, min- 
gling in the worship of God, choking the word, 
and rendering it unfruitful. Penetrating the 
heart, he unveiled its hateful presence there, as 
the leaven of hypocrisy, and the seed of theft. 

And can we wonder at the energy and fre- 
quency with which he denounced it, when we 
remember how frequently it came into direct 
personal contact w r ith himself, defeating his ten- 
derest solicitudes, and robbing him of souls he 
yearned to save ? It was covetousness which 
rendered unfruitful so large a proportion of that 
heavenly seed which he had come to sow. It 
was this which begrudged him the anointing 



70 MAMMON. 

for his burial. It was this which robbed his 
kingdom of a subject, just at the moment when 
"the young man" appeared to be about to fall 
into his train ; and which drew from him the 
affecting exclamation, " How hardly shall they 
that have riches enter into the kingdom of hea- 
ven!" This it was which left the gospel feast 
so thinly attended, and which sent excuses in- 
stead of guests. His audience commonly con- 
sisted of " the Pharisees who were covetous, 
and derided him." Wherever he looked, he be- 
held the principle in active, manifold, ruinous 
operation ; " devouring widows' houses," drink- 
ing orphans' tears, luxuriating in the spoils of 
defenceless childhood and innocence. Did he 
turn from this sickening spectacle, and seek 
relief in the temple ? there he beheld nothing 
but a den of thieves. Mammon was there en- 
shrined ; the solemn passover itself turned into 
gain ; the priests trafficking in the blood of hu- 
man souls. Like their forefathers, " from the 
least of them even to the greatest of them, every 
one was given to covetousness." 

But the last triumph of covetousness remained 
yet to be achieved. To have sold the temple for 
money would have been an act of daring im- 
piety ; to make it the place of merchandise was, 
perhaps, still worse, it was adding sacrilege to 
impiety. Only one deed more remained to be 
perpetrated, and covetousness might then rest 
satisfied. There was one greater than the tem- 
ple. God so loved the world that he had sent 
his only begotten Son to redeem it — might not 



MAMMON. 71 

he be sold ? Covetousness, in the person of 
Judas, looked on him, eyed him askance, and 
went to the traffickers in blood, and, for the 
charm of thirty pieces of silver, betrayed him, 
— a type of the manner in which the cause of 
mercy would be betrayed in every succeeding 
age. Yes, in the conduct of Judas, the incar- 
nation of cupidity, toward Jesus Christ, the 
incarnation of benevolence, we may behold an 
intimation of the quarter from which, in all 
succeeding times, the greatest danger would 
arise to the cause of Christ. The scene of the 
Saviour's betrayal for money was an affecting 
rehearsal, a prophetic warning, of the treatment 
which his gospel might expect to the end of 
the world. 

And have events falsified the prediction? Let 
the history of the corruptions of Christianity tes- 
tify. The spirit of gain deserted the Jewish 
temple, only to take up its abode in the Chris- 
tian church. Having sold the Saviour to the 
cross, it proceeded, in a sense, to sell the cross 
itself. We allude not to the venality of selling 
" the wood of the true cross," — that was only a 
diminutive of that accursed lust of gain which 
"thought the gift of God might be purchased 
with money," and which literally placed the 
great blessings of the cross at sale. Gradually, 
every thing became a source of gain. Not a 
single innovation, or rite, was introduced, which 
had not a relation to gain. Nations were laid 
under tribute. Every shrine had its gifts; every 
confession its cost ; every prayer its charge ; 



72 MAMMON. 

every benediction its price. Dispensation from 
duty, and indulgence in sin, were both attain- 
able at the sum set down. Liberation from hell, 
and admission into heaven, were both subject 
to money. And, not content with following its 
victims into the invisible state, covetousness 
even there created a third world, for the pur- 
pose of assessing its tortured inhabitants. Thus 
the religion whose blessings were intended to 
be without money and without price, became 
the tax and burden of the world ; a proverb for 
extortion and rapine ; till the wealth which the 
church had drained from a thousand states, 
" turned to poison in its bosom," and mankind 
arose to cast it from them as a bloated corrup- 
tion and a curse. 

The truth is, covetousness is native to our 
fallen nature ; and, unless religion vanquish it, 
in its indiscriminate ravages, it will vanquish 
religion. Other forms of selfishness are par- 
tial in their operation, being either confined to 
a party, or, at most, to an order of character ; 
but covetousness is the sin of humanity ; it is 
the name of a disease which knows no distinc- 
tion of class or party — the epidemic malady of 
our race. 

Gold is the only power which receives uni- 
versal homage. It is worshipped in all lands 
without a single temple, and by all classes 
without a single hypocrite ; and often has it 
been able to boast of having armies for its priest- 
hood, and hecatombs of human victims for its 
sacrifices. Where war has slain its thousands 



MAMMON. 73 

gain has slaughtered its millions ; for while the 
former operates only with the local and fitful 
terrors of an earthquake, the destructive influ- 
ence of the latter is universal and unceasing. 
Indeed war itself — what has it often been but 
the art of gain practised on the largest scale ? 
the eovetousness of a nation resolved on gain, 
impatient of delay, and leading on its subjects 
to deeds of rapine and blood ? Its history is the 
history of slavery and oppression in all ages. 
For centuries Africa — one quarter of the globe 
— has been set apart to supply the monster with 
victims — thousands at a meal. And, at this mo- 
ment, what a populous and gigantic empire can 
it boast ! the mine, with its unnatural drudgery; 
the manufactory, with its swarms of squalid mi- 
sery ; the plantation, with its imbruted gangs ; 
and the market and the exchange, with their 
furrowed and care-worn countenances, — these 
are only specimens of its more menial offices 
and subjects. Titles and honours are among 
its rewards, and thrones at its disposal. Among 
its counsellors are kings, and many of the -great 
and mighty of the earth enrolled among its sub- 
jects. Where are the waters not ploughed by its 
navies 1 What imperial element is not yoked 
to its car? Philosophy itself has become a mer- 
cenary in its pay; and science, a votary at its 
shrine, brings all its noblest discoveries, as of- 
ferings, to its feet. What part of the globe's 
surface is not rapidly yielding up its last stores 
of hidden treasure to the spirit of gain 1 or re- 
tains more than a few miles of unexplored and 



74 MAMMON. 

unvanquished territory 1 Scorning the childish 
dream of the philosopher's stone, it aspires to 
turn the globe itself into gold 



SECTION IV. 

THE PRESENT PREDOMINANCE OF COVETOUSNESS 
IN BRITAIN. 

This is a subject in which the Christians 
of Britain have more than an ordinary interest. 
For though no part of the world is exempt from 
the influence of covetousness, a commercial na- 
tion, like Britain, is more liable to its debase- 
ment than any other. Were it not indigenous 
to the human heart, here it would surely have 
been born ; for here are assembled all the fer- 
menting elements, favourable to its spontaneous 
generation : or, were it to be driven from every 
other land, here it would find sanctuary in a 
thousand places open to receive it. Not only 
does it exist among us, it is honoured, worship- 
ped, deified. Alas ! it has — without a figure — 
its priests ; its appropriate temples — earthly 
"hells ;" its ceremonial; its ever-burning fires, 
fed with precious things which ought to be of- 
fered as incense to God ; and, for its sacrifices, 
immortal souls. 

Every nation has its idol : in some countries 
that idol is pleasure ; in others, glory; in others, 
liberty ; but the name of our idol is mammon. 



MAMMON. 75 

The shrines of the others, indeed, are not ne- 
glected, but it must be conceded that money is 
the mightiest of all our idol gods. 

And not only does this fact distinguish us 
from most other nations, it distinguishes our 
present from our former selves — it is the brand- 
mark of the present age. For, if it be true, that 
each successive age has its representative ; that 
it beholds itself reflected in some leading school, 
and impresses its image on the philosophy of 
the day, where shall we look for the image of 
the existing age but in our systems of political 
economy ? " Men who would formerly have 
devoted their lives to metaphysical and moral 
research, are now given up to a more material 
study" — to the theory of rents, and the philoso- 
phy of the mart. Morality itself is allowed to 
employ no standard but that of utility ; to en- 
force her requirements by no plea but expe- 
diency, a consideration of profit and loss. And 
even the science of metaphysics is wavering, 
if it has not actually pronounced, in favour of 
a materialism which would subject the great 
mysteries of humanity to mathematical admea- 
surement, and chymical analysis. Mammon is 
marching through the land in triumph ; and it 
is to be feared that a large majority of all classes 
have devoted and degraded themselves to the 
office of his train-bearers. 

Statements like these may startle the reader 
who now reflects on the subject for the first 
time. But let him be assured that, "as the first 
impression which the foreigner receives on en- 



76 MAMMON. 

tering England is that of the evidence of wealth, 
so the first thing which strikes an inquirer into 
our social system is the absorbing respect in 
which wealth is held. The root of all our laws 
is to be found in the sentiment of property;" 
and this sentiment, right in itself, has, by ex- 
cess, infected with an all-pervading taint, our 
politics, our systems of education, the distribu- 
tion of honours, the popular notions — nay, it 
has penetrated our language, and even intruded 
into the sacred enclosures of religion. This is 
truth obvious not merely to the foreigner to 
whom it is a comparative novelty, the taint is 
acknowledged and deplored even by those who 
have become acclimated and inured to it. Not 
merely does the divine protest against it;* the 
man of the world joins him ; for it is felt to be 
a common cause. The legislator complains that 
governments are getting to be little better than 
political establishments to furnish facilities for 
the accumulation of wealth. The philanthropist 
complains that generous motives are lost sight 
of in the prevailing desire of gain ; so that he 
who evinces a disposition to disinterested be 
nevolence is either distrusted as a hypocrite, or 
derided as a fool. The moralist complains that 
" commerce has kindled in the nation a uni- 
versal emulation for wealth, and that money 

* His complaint might be thought professional. In this 
section, therefore, the writer has had recourse to authorities 
which some may consider of greater weight. His quotations 
are derived principally from Coleridge's Lay Sermons, Bui- 
wer's England and the English, and from the two leading 
Reviews. 



MAMMON. 77 

receives all the honours which are the proper 
right of knowledge and virtue." The candidate 
for worldly advancement and honour protests 
against the arrangement which makes promo- 
tion a matter of purchase, thus disparaging and 
discouraging all worth save that of w r ealth. The 
poet laments that " the world is too much with 
us;" that "all things are sold;" that every 
thing is made a marketable commodity, and 
"labelled with its price." The student of men- 
tal and moral philosophy laments that his fa- 
vourite " sciences are falling into decay, while 
the physical are engrossing, every day, more 
respect and attention;" that the "worship of 
the beautiful and good has given place to a cal- 
culation of the profitable ; " that " every work 
which can be made use of to immediate profit, 
every work which falls in with the desire of 
acquiring wealth suddenly, is sure of an appro- 
priate circulation ; " that we have been led to 
" estimate the worth of all pursuits and attain* 
ments by their marketable value." 

To the same unhallowed spirit of gain is to 
be traced that fierce " competition," of which 
the labourer, the artisan, the dealer, the manu* 
factnrer, and even the members of all the libe- 
ral professions, alike complain. That compe- 
tition, under certain limits, is necessary to the 
activity and healthy condition of the social 
economy, is not to be denied. But when it 
rises to a struggle in which neither time nor 
strength is left for higher pursuits ; in which 
every new competitor is looked on in the light 



78 MAMMON. 

of an enemy ; in which every personal exer- 
tion, and practicable retrenchment, in the mode 
of conducting business, olo but barely leave a 
subsistence, — there must be something essen- 
tially wrong in our ruling spirit, or social con- 
stitution. True, the fact that the evil exists 
may palliate the conduct of the Christian, who, 
in mere self-defence, and without his own seek- 
ing, finds himself compelled by circumstances 
to engage in the rivalry and turmoil. Such a 
man is an object, not of blame, but of pity. 
But how small the number of those who are 
not actually augmenting the evil, either by a 
sumptuous style of living, which absorbs the 
entire profits of business as fast as they accrue, 
and which even anticipates them ; or else by a 
morbid and exorbitant craving after something 
new, by which the ingenuity and application of 
men of business are kept constantly taxed, and 
competition is almost converted into hostility ! 
Our present concern, however, is not with the 
cause, but with the fact. And on all hands it 
is admitted, that the way in which business 
is now conducted, involves all the risk, uncer- 
tainty, and unnatural excitement of a game of 
chance. 

Nor is the strife of fashion less apparent than 
the struggle of business. Each class of the com- 
munity, in succession, is pressing on that which 
is immediately before it. Many of those en- 
gaged in the rivalry are supporting themselves 
by temporary expedients ; concealing their real 
poverty by occasional extravagance and display. 



MAMMON. 79 

Take the following description of the fact, from 
an eminent Christian moralist, whose position in 
society enabled him to judge correctly, and on 
a large scale :— " Others, .... a numerous class 
in our days, attach themselves to the pomps and 
vanities of life. Magnificent houses, grand equi- 
pages, numerous retinues, splendid entertain- 
ments, high and fashionable connections, appear 
to constitute, in their estimation, the supreme 
happiness of life. Persons to whose rank and 
station these indulgences most properly belong 
often are the most indifferent to them. Undue 
solicitude about them is more visible in persons 
of inferior conditions and smaller fortunes ; in 
whom it is detected by the studious contri- 
vances of a misapplied ingenuity, to reconcile 
parade with economy, and to glitter at a cheap 
rate. There is an evident effort and struggle 
to excel in the particulars here in question ; 
a manifest wish to rival superiors, to outstrip 
equals, and to dazzle inferiors."* The truth of 
this picture, it is to be feared, has been daily 
increasing ever since it was drawn. 

A spirit of extravagance and display naturally 
seeks for resources in daring pecuniary specu- 
lations. Industry is too slow and plodding for it. 
Accordingly, this is the age of reckless adven- 
ture. The spirit of the lottery is still upon us. 
" Sink or swim," is the motto of numbers who 
are ready to stake their fortune on a specula- 
tion ; and evil indeed must be that project, and 
perilous in the extreme must be that scheme, 
* Wilberforce on Practical Christianity. 



80 MAMMON. 

which they would hesitate to adopt, if it held 
out the remotest prospect of gain. 

The writer is quite aware, and free to admit, 
that we are, from circumstances — -and long may 
we be — an active, industrious, trading people. 
Much of our distinctive greatness as a nation is 
owing to this fact. Nor is he insensible to the 
numerous claims of the present age to be called 
the age of benevolence. Both these facts, how- 
ever, he regards as quite compatible with his 
present allegations. For the truth appears to 
be, that, much as the benevolence of the age 
has increased, the spirit of trade has increased 
still more ; that it has far outstripped the spirit 
of benevolence ; so that, while the spirit of be- 
nevolence has increased absolutely, yet relatively 
it may be said to have declined, to have lost 
ground to the spirit of trade, and to be tainted 
and oppressed by its influence. How large a 
proportion of what is cast into the Christian 
treasury must be regarded merely as a kind oi 
quitrent paid to the cause of benevolence by the 
spirit of trade, that it might be left free to devote 
itself to the absorbing claims of the world ; how 
small a proportion of it is subtracted from the 
vanities and indulgences of life ; how very little 
of it results from a settled plan of benevolence, 
or from that self-denial, without which, on Chris- 
tian principles, there is no benevolence. Never, 
perhaps, was self-denial a rarer virtue than in the 
present age. 

Again : what is the testimony of those in our 
most popular schools who educate our youth? — 



mammon 8i 

that "there is a prevailing indifTeience to that 
class of sciences, the knowledge of which is not 
profitable to the possessor in a pecuniary point 
of view," — that the only learning in request is 
that which teaches the art of making money. 
The man of ancestral rank complains, that even 
respect for birth is yielding to the mercenary 
claim of riches. Such is the all-trans forming 
power of cupidity, that business the most op- 
pressive is pursued with all the zest of an 
amusement, while amusement, intended to be 
a discharge from business, is laboriously culti- 
vated by thousands as a soil for profitable specu- 
lation and golden fruit. Perhaps the greatest 
triumph which the lust of lucre has achieved, 
next to its presence in the temple of God, is 
the effectual manner in which it has converted 
the principal amusements of the nation into so 
vast and complicated a system of gambling, 
that, to master it, demands all the studious ap- 
plication of a profound science. Looking at the 
universal influence which wealth has obtained 
over every institution, and every grade of the 
social system, what more is wanting to induce 
the many to believe, as sober truth, the ironical 
definition of the satirist, that " Worth means 
wealth — and wisdom the art of acquiring it?'" 

" Whatever men are taught highly to respect, 
gradually acquires the rank of a virtue." Well, 
therefore, has it been said, by a master of phi- 
losophy, that " the honours of a state, direct the 
esteem of a people ; and that according to the 
esteem of a people, is the general direction of 
6 



82 MAMMON 

mental energy and genius." The consequence 
of affixing the highest worldly rewards to wealth, 
is, that to be rich is accounted a merit, and to 
be poor an offence. Nor is this the worst : a 
false standard of morality is thus created, by 
which it is made of less consequence to be wise 
and virtuous, than to be rich. 

The appalling degree to which such a stand- 
ard has obtained among us, may be inferred 
from the manner in which it has imprinted 
itself on our language. It is true, that many 
of the terms and phrases alluded to may some- 
times be employed with an exclusive reference 
to property, and quite irrespective of moral 
worth. They are, however, idioms of the lan- 
guage, and as such would soon give rise to the 
debasing associations in question, even if those 
associations did not exist before. But the tones 
in which they are commonly uttered, and the 
emotions of admiration or contempt with which 
they are accompanied, abundantly testify that 
such associations already exist. Justly has a 
foriegn writer observed, for instance, that " the 
supreme influence of wealth, in this country, 
may be judged of by the simple phrase, that a 
man is said to be worth so much" — worth just 
so much as his money amounts to, and no more. 
"Poor creature ! " is an exclamation as frequent- 
ly uttered to express contempt as pity, and may 
indicate that the object of it unites in himself 
all kinds of wretchedness, and many degrees of 
guilt. How constantly are individuals and fami- 
lies pronounced respectable — that is the favour- 



MAMMON. 83 

ite pass-word into society — when, if reference 
were had to their character, to any thing but 
their wealth, they would be found entitled to 
any thing but respect. What is ordinarily un- 
derstood by good society ? Certainly the exclu- 
sion of nothing bad but poverty : it may exclude 
every one of the virtues, provided there be a 
sufficiency of wealth. And when we speak of 
making a meeting or a society select, who thinks 
of employing any other process, if money be the 
means of admission, than that of raising the 
price, and thus erecting a test of wealth ? We 
find ourselves in a world where a thousand con- 
flicting objects propose themselves to our atten- 
tion, each claiming to deserve our supreme 
regard ; but who thinks of disturbing the rati- 
fied decision of generations, that, of all these 
objects, money is the main chance ? Whatever 
attainments a man may be making in other re- 
spects, yet, as if wealth were the only prize 
worth contending for in the race of life, he only 
is said to be getting on in the world who is in- 
creasing his property. The term gain is not 
applied to knowledge, virtue, or happiness : it is 
reserved solely to mark pecuniary acquisitions ; 
it is synonymous with gold, as if nothing but 
gold were gain, and every thing else were com- 
parative loss. And the man whose gains are 
known to be rapidly increasing, is not only 
spoken of by the multitude, under their breath, 
with marked veneration and awe, but, as if he 
more nearly approached the creative power 
than any other human being, he is said to be 



84 MAMMON. 

making money ;— and having said that, eulogy is 
exhausted, he is considered to be crowned with 
praise. 

Could we ascertain the entire amount of na- 
tional excitement and emotion experienced in 
the course of a year, and could we then distri- 
bute it into classes, assigning each respectively 
to its own exciting cause, who can for a moment 
doubt that the amount of excitement arising from 
the influence and operation of money, direct and 
indirect, would not only exceed that of either of 
the others, separately considered, but would go 
near to surpass them all together ? And when 
it is remembered that this cause is always in 
operation ; that it has acquired a character of 
permanence ; that our life is spent under the 
reign of wealth ; how can it be otherwise than 
that we should become its subjects, if not even 
its slaves ? When, year after year, the assem- 
bled wisdom of the nation is employed for 
months, discussing, in the hearing of the na- 
tion, questions of cost and finance, trying the 
merit ef every proposition by a standard of 
profit and loss, and thus virtually converting the 
throne of legislation into a table of exchange it 
can only follow, that the same standard will be 
generally adopted in private life to try individual 
questions. If the body politic be so constituted 
that the exchange is its heart, then every par- 
ticular pulse in the community will aim to find 
its health, by beating in unison with it. 

Thus the spirit of gain, which in most coun- 
tries is only one power among many, may here 



MAMMON, 85 

be said to be tutelary and supreme ; and the 
love of money, from being an occasional pur- 
suit, becomes in innumerable instances, a rooted 
and prevailing passion. Nor is it possible for 
piety itself to escape trie infection. To live here, 
is to live in the temple of mammon ; and it is 
impossible to see the god worshipped daily, to 
behold the reverence of the multitude, to stand 
in the presence of the idol, without catching the 
contagion of awe, and yielding to the sorcery 
of wealth. 

Are our religious assemblies exempt from the 
debasing influence ? " My brethren," saith the 
Apostle James, " have not the faith of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory, with respect of 
persons. For if there come unto your assembly 
a man with a gold ring, in goodly apparel, and 
there come in also a poor man in vile raiment ; 
and ye have respect unto him that weareth the 
gay clothing, and say unto him, Sit thou here in 
a good place ; and say to the poor, Stand thou 
there, or sit here under my footstool : are ye 
not then partial in yourselves, and are become 
judges of evil thoughts ? ?' The apostle is depre- 
cating that homage to wealth which implies that 
it is honourable for its own sake alone, and that 
poverty is disgraceful, however borne ; a homage 
which, while it is sinful everywhere, cannot be 
practised in the sanctuary without offering pe- 
culiar insult to the throne of God. But did not 
the apostle draw this picture prophetically of 
the present day ? Could he now witness, says 
Scott in his comment on this scripture, what 



86 MAMMON. 

takes place generally in this matter, and give 
his opinion of it, would he not repeat the cen- 
sure, that we are influenced by corrupt reason- 
ings and erroneous calculations ? and utter it in 
words even more severe ? And would he not 
find, it may be added, that the influence of 
wealth has penetrated deeper still ? that it not 
only sits in the presence of God while poverty 
stands, but that it often rules there while pover- 
ty serves ; that in that sacred enclosure, where 
men should take rank only by superiority of 
spiritual excellence, wealth, in many instances, 
lords it over character, and reigns with a sway 
as undisputed as it exercises in the world ? 

Has the management of our benevolent societies 
escaped the prevailing evil ? The guardians of 
the funds of benevolence, indeed, cannot too 
carefully protect them from exorbitant charges, 
and a wasteful expenditure ; but at the same 
time, they are not, under the plea of economy, 
to refuse to the tradesman a remunerating profit. 
Yet tradesmen are occasionally heard to com- 
plain that such is the fact ; that the grinding 
system of some of our religious committees 
leaves them to do business for nothing. Be- 
sides which, is there not, in many instances, too 
much reliance placed on the efficacy of money 
for the accomplishment of religious objects? top 
much deference paid to wealth in the selection 
of chairmen, officers, and members? too evident 
a disposition to estimate the prosperity of an 
institution by the amount of its funds ? too much 
of a pecuniary rivalry with kindred institutions? 



MAMMON. 87 

and too little delicacy about the means employed 
to swell the funds, provided only the increase' 
take place ? Is it not equally true of the insti- 
tution that " maketh haste to be rich," as of the 
man, that it " cannot be innocent ? " 

Are our public meetings of benevolence free 
from the taint? Is there nothing questionable 
in the way in which money is raised on those 
occasions ? nothing of a worldly mechanism for 
raising benevolence to the giving point ? nothing 
of the anxiety of a pecuniary adventure felt, by 
those most deeply interested, at the commence- 
ment of a meeting ? and, as the pecuniary ex- 
periment proceeds, is not that anxiety increased 
as to how the speculation will succeed ? Are 
there not occasions when our platforms exhibit 
a scene too much resembling a bidding for 
notice?— The writer feels that he is treading 
on delicate ground ; nor has he advanced thus 
far on it without trembling. He is fully aware 
that many of those scenes to which he alludes 
have originated spontaneously, unexpectedly, 
and from pure Christian impulse : — would that 
the number of such were increased ! He does 
not forget that some of the agents of benevo- 
lence who are most active in promoting a repe- 
tition of such scenes, are among the excellent 
of the earth. He bears in mind, too, that among 
those whose names are proclaimed as donors on 
such occasions, are some whom it is a privi- 
lege to know ; men who give privately as well 
as publicly ; whose ordinary charity is single- 
handed. And he feels convinced that the ruling 



88 3HAMM0X. 

motive of all is, to enlarge the sphere of Chris- 
tian beneficence to the glory of the grace of 
God. Nor can he be insensible to the unkind 
construction to which these remarks, however 
humbly submitted, are liable to expose him ; or 
to the avidity with which the captious and the 
covetous will seize and turn them to their own 
unhallowed account ; or to the force of the plea 
that the best things are open to abuse, and that 
it is easy to raise objections against the purest 
methods and means of benevolence. Still, how- 
ever, he feels himself justified in respectfully 
submitting to the Christian consideration of 
those most deeply concerned in the subject, 
whether our anxiety for the attainment of the 
glorious end, has left us sufficiently jealous for 
the purity of the means ; whether some of these 
means do not call for reconsideration ; whether 
they do not too directly appeal to motives which 
the gospel discountenances and disowns ; and 
whether they rely sufficiently on the power of 
Christian appeal to Christian principle ; — whe- 
ther, in fine, the mechanical spirit of the age 
is not beginning to influence the supply of our 
funds, to the injury of the spirit of genuine be- 
nevolence. 

But does not the very fact, that novel and 
questionable means are sometimes resorted to 
for the purpose of replenishing the funds of be- 
nevolence, imply that ordinary and approved 
methods had failed to answer that end ? in 
other words, that the charge of covetousness lies 
against the professors of the gospel generally? 



MAMMON. 89 

But, besides this presumptive evidence of the 
charge, it is easy to substantiate it by two di- 
rect proofs-^— the first, derived from their con- 
duct in the world ; and the second, from their 
conduct in the church. Who has not heard 
of the morality of trade as differing materially 
from the standard morality of the gospel ? Yet 
how small the number of Christian professors 
who perceive the guilt of this moral solecism ! 
How few who do not easily fall in, for the sake 
of pecuniary advantage, with the most approved 
worldly methods of increasing their profits ! 
Blinded by the love of gain, and justifying 
themselves on the ground of custom and self- 
defence, the sense of right is overruled, and 
conscience itself becomes a victim on the altar 
of mammon. The other proof of the covetous- 
ness of the church may be deduced from the 
very fact, that its contributions to the cause of 
mercy are annually increasing. For it proves, 
either that, having reached the standard mark 
of liberality, we are now yearly exceeding it, 
or else that, with slow and laborious steps, we 
are only as yet advancing toward it. If the 
latter — does not the increase of every present 
year cast a reproach back on the comparative 
parsimony of every past year ? Will not the 
augmented liberality of next year reproach the 
niggardliness of this ? 



90 MAMMON. 

SECTION V. 
THE D SGUISES OF COVETOUSNESS. 

Easy as it is, however, to demonstrate the 
prevalence of covetousness, — to convict the 
individual conscience of the evil, to bring home 
the charge personally so as to produce self-ac- 
cusation, is one of the last efforts in. which we 
hope for success. Men think not of covetous- 
ness, and of themselves, at the same time. He 
who can decide, with equal facility and preci- 
sion, the exact point at which cupidity begins 
in another, no sooner finds the same test about 
to be applied to himself than he discovers a 
number of exceptions, which render the stand- 
ard totally inapplicable. It was remarked by 
St. Francis de Sales, who was greatly resorted 
to in his day as a confessor, that none confess 
the sin of covetousness. And he who " knew 
what was in man," sought to alarm our vigi- 
lance, by saying of this sin what he said so 
emphatically of no other, " Take heed, and be- 
ware of it." 

It is true of every passion, that it has an 
established method of justifying itself; but of 
covetousness it may be said that all the pas- 
sions awake to justify it; they all espouse its 
cause, and draw in its defence, for it panders to 
them all ; a Money answereth all ends." 

The very prevalence of the evil forms its mos 
powerful protection and plea ; for " the multi- 
tude never blush." We might have supposed 



MAMMON. 91 

that its prevalence would have facilitated its 
detection and exposure in individual cases ; but 
owing to its very prevalence it is that so few 
are conscious of it. We keep each other in 
countenance. Having been born in the climate, 
we are not aware of any thing pernicious in it. 
The guilt of this, as of every other sin, is mea- 
sured by a graduated scale ; and as all around 
us indulge in it up to a certain point of the 
scale, it is only from that point we allow covet- 
ousness begins ; we begin to reckon guilt only 
from that point. Indignation is reserved till that 
point is passed, and the passion has become 
monstrous and extreme. Because we are not a 
community of Trumans, Elvves, and Dancers, 
we exchange looks of congratulation, and flat- 
ter ourselves that we are innocent. The very 
resentment which we let loose on such person- 
ifications of the vice, seems to discharge us 
from all suspicion, and to grant us a fresh dis- 
pensation to indulge in the quiet of ordinary 
covetousness. Yet, often, it is to be feared, that 
very resentment is the mere offspring of jea- 
lousy ; like the anger awakened in a commu- 
nity of the dishonest, at finding that one of their 
number has violated the rules of the body, by 
secreting more than his share of booty. 

But that which constitutes the strength of 
covetousness is its power to assume the ap- 
pearance of virtue ; like ancient armour, it is at 
once protection and disguise. "No advocate will 
venture to defend it under its own proper cha- 
racter. Avarice takes the license used by other 



92 MAMMON. 

felons, and, by the adoption of an alias, escapes' 
the reprobation attached to its own name."* 
In the vocabulary of covetousness, worldliness 
means industry ; though it is obvious to every 
Christian observer, that the pretended industry 
of many a religious professor is the destruction 
of his piety, and will eventually form the ground 
of his condemnation. Idleness is his pretended 
aversion. His time, his strength, his solicitudes, 
are all drained off in the service of Mammon ; 
while nothing is left for religion but a faint sigh, 
a hurried, heartless prayer, and an occasional 
struggle so impotent as to invite defeat. 

" But Providence," he pleads, " has actually 
rilled his hands with business, without his seek- 
ing ; and would it not be ungrateful to lose it by 
neglect ? " But have you never heard, we might 
reply, that God sometimes tries his people, to 
see whether they will keep his commandments 
or not ? and may he not be now proving how 
far the verdure of your piety can resist the ex- 
haling and scorching sun of prosperity ? Be- 
sides, is it supposable that God intended you to 
interpret his grant of w r orldly prosperity into a 
discharge from his service, and a commission 
in the service of mammon? And, more than all, 
significantly as you may think his providence 
invites you to labour for the bread that perish- 
eth, does not his gospel, his Son, your Lord 
and Redeemer, call you a thousand-fold more 
emphatically to labour for the meat which en- 
dureth unto eternal life ? You may be misin- 
* Mrs. More 



MAMMON. 93 

terpreting the voice of his providence, the voice 
of his gospel you cannot misunderstand ; it is 
distinct, imperative, and incessant ; urging you 
daily to "seek first the kingdom of God, and his 
righteousness." 

Another individual is a slave to parsimony ; 
but he is quite insensible to it, for the tempta- 
tion solicits him under the disguise of frugality. 
Waste is his abhorrence ; and he knows no 
refuge from it but in the opposite extreme. 
Every new instance of impoverished prodigality 
is received by him as a warning from Provi- 
dence to be careful. His creed is made up of 
all the accredited maxims and world-honoured 
proverbs in favour of covetousness, the authority 
of which he never questions, and the dexterous 
application of which fortifies his mind like an 
antidote against all the contagious attacks of 
charity. And thus, though he lives in a world 
supported by bounty, and hopes, perhaps, to 
be saved at last by grace, he gives only when 
shame will not allow him to refuse, and grudges 
the little which he gives. 

The aim of another is evidently the accu- 
mulation of wealth ; but the explanation which 
he gives to himself of his conduct, is, that he 
desires simply to provide for the future. Want 
is his dread. And though, in his aim to avoid 
this evil, he may not distinctly propose to him- 
self to become rich, yet what else can result 
from his constantly amassing ? His interpreta- 
tion of competence, if candidly avowed, is afflu- 
ence; a dispensation from labour for himself and 



94 MAMMOX. 

family to the end of time, a discharge from future 
dependence on Providence, a perpetuity of ease 
and sloth. Till he has succeeded in reaching 
that enviable state, his mind is full of fore- 
boding : he can take no thought except for the 
morrow. x\s if Providence had vacated its 
throne, and deserted its charge, he takes on 
himself all the cares and burdens belonging to 
his state. And laden with these, he is totally 
disqualified for every holy duty and Christian 
enterprise which would take him a single step 
out of his way to competence. And often is he 
to be seen providing for the infirmities of age 
long after these infirmities have overtaken him, 
and labouring to acquire a competence up to the 
moment when a competence for him means only 
the expenses of his funeral. 

In the instance of a person who has attained 
to competence, covetousness often seeks to es- 
cape detection under the name of contentment. 
He fancies that he is completely vindicated from 
the charge of cupidity, by saying, "I am quite 
content with what I have." But so also was 
that minion of wealth whom our Lord introduces 
with the solemn warning, " Take heed, and be- 
ware of covetousness." His contentment is only 
covetousness reposing self-complacently from its 
toils, resting on its well-filled bags, and saying, 
" Soul, take thine ease." Let an agent of charity 
approach him with outstretched and imploring 
hand, and, as if touched by IthurieFs spear, he 
will forthwith start into his proper character, 
and demonstrate that his contentment depends 



MAMMON. 95 

on his keeping his property entire ; at least, that 
he is not content to give. 

And another not only most confidently acquits 
himself of all suspicion of selfishness, but even 
appropriates the credit of being benevolent, on 
the ground of his natural sensibility. A spectacle 
of suffering harrows up his soul ; and therefore 
"he passes by on the other side." An object 
of destitution afflicts his too delicate sympathies ; 
and, therefore, he closes his door against it, 
saying, " Depart in peace, be thou warmed and 
filled ;" and leaves it in its destitution to perish. 
And thus, by belonging to the school of Rous- 
seau or of Sterne, he gives himself the credit 
of belonging to the school of Christ ; by paying 
the tax of a sigh to wretchedness, he escapes 
the levy of a heavier tribute, and even pur- 
chases a character for the tenderest suscepti- 
bility. But sensibility is not benevolence ; by 
wasting itself on trifles, it may render us slaves 
to selfishness, and unfit us for every thing but 
seZ/"-commiseration. 

Covetousness will sometimes indulge* itself 
under the pretence of preparing to retire from 
the cares and turmoil of active life. The pro- 
priety of an early retirement from business must 
depend, of course, on circumstances. But how 
often does the covetousness which wears this 
mask, retain her slave in her service even to 
hoary hairs, putting him off from time to time 
with delusive promises of approaching emanci- 
pation. Or else, he retires to spend in slothful 
and selfish privacy, that which he had accu- 



96 MAMMON, 

mulated by years of parsimony. Or else, by 
mingling readily in scenes of gayety and amuse- 
ment, he shows that his worldly aversions re- 
lated, not to the world of pleasure, but only to 
the world of business. Instead of fixing his 
abode where his pecuniary resources and Chris- 
tian activity might have rendered him an exten- 
sive blessing, he consults only his own gratifi- 
cation, establishes himself at a distance, it may 
be, from " the place of the altar," and, in a 
regular round of habitual indulgence, lives and 
dies an unfaithful steward, a sober sensualist, a 
curse rather than a blessing. 

Sometimes covetousness is heard enlarging 
complacently on the necessity, and even piety, 
of providing for children. And here, be it re- 
membered, we are not considering what parental 
duty may dictate on this subject, but only what 
covetousness often does under its borrowed 
name. Many a parent gratifies his love for 
money, while pretending a love for his chil- 
dren. The facility, too, with which he quotes 
certain passages of Scripture to defend the 
course he is pursuing, shows how acceptable 
to his numerous class an argument would be in 
favour of hoarding, since these few perverted 
sentences, which only seem to sanction it, are 
his favourite and most familiar texts. Of these, 
his chosen stronghold, perhaps, is the declara- 
tion of the apostle, " He that provideth not for 
his own, and specially for those of his own 
house, hath denied the faith, and is worse than 
an infidel." The sacred writer, in giving direc- 






MAMMON. 97 

tions relative to the maintenance of widows, 
distinguishes between such as the church should 
relieve, and such as should be supported by their 
own relatives. And concerning the latter, he 
makes the statement in question. Whence it 
follows, first, that the provision contemplated 
by the apostle is not a laying up beforehand for 
future contingencies, but a present supply of 
present necessities, a simple maintenance of 
needy relatives from day to day. And, second- 
ly, that, instead of countenancing parents in the 
accumulation of great fortunes for their children, 
he is speaking of the maintenance which chil- 
dren, if able, should afford to their aged and 
destitute parents. With the subject of providing 
for families, therefore, the text in question has 
nothing to do. Rightly interpreted, we see that 
it enjoins, not accumulating, but giving. How 
humiliating is the only explanation which can 
be given of the general perversion of this scrip- 
ture, and of the pertinacity with which that 
perversion is retained. 

Let the Christian parent compare the merits 
of a useful education and a qualification for 
business or a profession, with the merits of that 
state of so-called independence in which he is 
toiling to place his family ; and let him call in 
the aid of Scripture and of prayer that he may 
conduct the comparison aright, and we will not 
fear for the result. Let him look around his 
neighbourhood, and institute a comparison, if he 
can, between the apparent character and hap- 
piness of the six nearest individuals who have 

7 
\ 



98 MAMMON. 

been left dependant, under God, on their own 
exertions for respectability and support, and the 
six who have been left independent of per- 
sonal exertion, indeed, but pitiably dependant 
on wealth alone for happiness, and let him say 
which state is preferable for virtue and enjoy- 
ment. Let him say, what is to be thought of 
the consistency of a Christian parent who, with 
our Lord's representation of the danger of riches 
ringing in his ears, goes on scheming and la- 
bouring, to leave his children rich in the element 
of destruction ; toiling, to place them in a con- 
dition in which, he admits, it is all but impos- 
sible that they should be saved. Let him ask 
himself, whether such a one be not acting 
over again, on a smaller scale, the part of the 
tempter, when he brought the kingdoms of the 
world and the glory of them to the Saviour's 
feet? Let him remember, not only that he is 
to leave his children behind him in a world 
where wealth is thought to be every thing, but 
that he is to meet them again in a world where 
it will be nothing — where it will be remembered 
only in relation to the purposes to which it has 
been applied. 



SECTION VI. 

TESTS OF COVETOUSNESS. 

But the more insidious and seductive the 
forms of covetousness, and the greater its pre- 
valence, the more necessary does it become to 



MAMMON- 99 

study the disease in its symptoms ; to trace it 
to its earliest signs, and view it in its slightest 
indications. In order, however, that the patient 
may benefit by the investigation, skill is not 
more indispensable in the physician, than a so- 
licitous impartiality in himself. In vain would 
it be even for the great Physician to specify the 
various signs of this moral malady, unless those 
who are the subjects of it voluntarily lay bare 
their breasts, and anxiously lend themselves to 
ascertain whether or not the plague-spot be upon 
them. Without this, they would close their eyes 
to the presence of ninety-nine symptoms, and 
accept the absence of the hundredth as a de- 
monstration of their perfect freedom from the 
taint ; while, on the other hand, a tender and 
faithful conscience would overlook the absence 
of the ninety-nine, and take alarm at the pre- 
sence of the hundredth. The absence of one or 
two out of numerous symptoms of a bodily dis- 
ease, does not warrant us hastily to conclude 
that we are totally exempt from danger, and to 
congratulate ourselves on our escape ; for we 
recollect that few persons exhibit all the signs 
of any disease. And moral diseases, like phy- 
sical, are modified by temperament and cir- 
cumstances ; so that if some of the indications 
of the malady in question are wanting, a little 
impartial examination may disclose others suf- 
ficiently determinate to awaken alarm, and pro- 
duce humiliation. 

" What are those signs, then," we will suppose 
the reader to inquire, " what are some of those 



100 MAMMON. 

signs whose presence would indicate the exist- 
ence of covetousness in my character?" And 
here, reader, we would remind you that the 
inquiry is to be conducted under the eye of 
God ; that a consultation of physicians over your 
dying bed would not call for greater seriousness 
than the present exercise ; and that an appeal 
to Omniscience, and a prayer for seasonable 
grace, would not be the least favourable tokens 
of your earnestness and desire to be benefited. 

You have seen the prevalence of covetous- 
ness, and its power of insinuation under fictitious 
names ; are you now, for the first time, subject- 
ing your heart to a thorough inspection on the 
subject ? but ought not this simple fact, that you 
are doing it now for the first time, to excite your 
suspicions, and prepare you to find, that, while 
you have been sleeping, the enemy has been 
sowing tares in your heart ? Taking it for 
granted that you are living in the habit of com- 
munion with God, you no doubt advert, from 
time to time, in the language of lamentation and 
confession, to various sins which have never 
appeared in your conduct, but which as a com- 
mon partaker of sinful humanity, you suspect to 
exist seminally in your heart; — is covetousness 
named among them ? — When last did you depre- 
cate it ? when last were you earnest in prayer 
for a spirit of Christian liberality ? 

Your station, property, or mental character 
invest you, it may be, with a measure of au- 
thority and influence ; do you ever employ that 
power to oppress, and to overrule right? Are 



MAMMON. 101 

you what the poor denominate hard-hearted ? 
capable of driving a hard bargain ? rigid and 
inexorable as an Egyptian task-master in your 
mode of conducting business 1 enforcing every 
legal claim, pressing every demand, and exact- 
ing every obligation to the extremest point of 
justice ? 

Are you what is commonly denominated mean ? 
cutting down the enjoyments of those dependant 
on you to the very quick ? never rewarding ex- 
ertion a tittle beyond what is " in the bond ?" 
doling out requital for services with so niggardly 
a hand, that want alone would submit to your 
bondage ? 

Can you " go beyond, and defraud another in 
any matter ? " Do not hastily resent the ques- 
tion. For only remember, first, the multiplied 
laws which already exist against fraud ; and 
the insufficiency of this vast and complicated 
apparatus as implied in the continued labours 
of the legislature to prevent, and of the execu- 
tive to punish, fraud — all intimating the dreadful 
prevalence of the evil. Recollect, also, that no 
multiplication of laws can supply the place of 
principle and integrity ; artifice would still find 
a way of escape through the finest network of 
human legislation. Then, again, bear in mind 
the grievous but acknowledged fact, that two 
kinds of morality obtain in life — the morality 
of private life, all sensitiveness, delicacy, and 
honour ; and the morality of business, all se- 
crecy in its own movements — all vigilance re- 
specting the movements of others — all suspicion 



102 MAMMON, 

of their representations — all protestation and 
confidence of the superior excellence of its own 
wares — all depreciation of theirs — a morality 
that deems a thousand things justifiable in busi- 
ness, which in private life would be condemned. 
Now, we take it for granted that you would not 
violate the law ; that you would shudder at the 
bare shadow of dishonesty ; — but do you never 
avail yourself in business of the ignorance and 
weakness of others ? Do you ever take advan- 
tage of that class of the secrets of your business, 
which, though deemed defensible by the world, 
are, to say the least, of a doubtful character? 
Are you satisfied with escaping, and, perhaps, 
barely escaping, the penalty of the law ? and 
with pleading that you are only doing as others 
do ? — and all this for the sake of a little paltry 
gain? 

Providence, perhaps, has assigned you a sta- 
tion in society, which, though it leaves many 
below you, places numbers above you. Are you 
content with the allotment ? If you regard your 
own situation with dissatisfaction, and the supe- 
rior advantages of others with envy, and speak 
disparagingly of their merits, and repine at your 
worldly circumstances, though at the same time 
the imperishable treasures of grace are placed 
within your reach, what are you but saying, in 
effect, that no heavenly wealth can compensate 
in your esteem for the unrighteous mammon after 
which you pine ? 

We have adverted to the numerous maxims 
and proverbs by the currency and frequent repe- 



MAMMON. 



103 



tition of which the world seeks to fortify itself 
against the claims of benevolence, and to justify 
itself in its all-grasping endeavours ; — do you 
find these maxims occasionally falling in self- 
justification from your own lips? He whom 
you acknowledge as your Lord and Master has 
declared, that, "it is more blessed to give than 
to receive," — a saying which falls like a para- 
dox, an enigma, an impossibility, on the infidel 
covetousness of the human heart, — do you find 
that your heart, when left to itself sympathizes 
more cordially on this point with your Master 
or with the world ? The same divine authority 
has pronounced it to be a characteristic of the 
pagan and ungodly world, to care for the pro- 
vision of their temporal wants as solicitously as 
if no Providence superintended the world, no 
"heavenly Father" cared for them; — do you 
stand apart from the irreligious in this respect ? 
If their conduct proves that they have no God, 
does yours prove that you have one ? If the 
world could lay open your breast, would it not 
be justified in concluding that though you have 
a God, you cannot trust him ? that, in temporal 
things, you are obliged, after all, to do as they 
do — rely exclusively upon yourself ? And when 
the hour returns for your appearance in the 
closet, in the sanctuary, at the post of Chris- 
tian usefulness and benevolence, but returns to 
mourn your absence — where then are you to 
be searched for with the greatest likelihood of 
being found? At the altars of Mammon? amidst 
the engrossing cares and services of the world? 



104 MAMMON. 

Does not the dread of a petty loss, or the 
prospect of a petty gain, fill you with emotions 
beyond what the magnitude of either would 
warrant ? And were a committee of the wisest 
and the best of men to sit in friendly judgment 
on your worldly affairs, would they not be likely 
to pronounce that your mind might be safely 
discharged of ail that solicitude which now dis- 
turbs it, and be left entirely free for the service 
of God? You confess that God may justly 
complain of you as slothful and unfaithful in 
his service ; — would Mammon be justified in 
urging a similar complaint ? or, rather, may he 
not boast of you as one of his most diligent and 
exemplary servants ? Are you providing more 
earnestly for the future moments of time than 
for the future ages of eternity ? Are you spend- 
ing life in providing the means of living, and 
are you thus living to no end 1 Are you pre- 
paring to depart \ or would death find you say- 
ing, " Soul, take thine ease .;" counting your 
gains ; loath to quit your possessions ; and " set- 
ting your affections on things on the earth V 
Have you engaged in any worldly avocation 
or object, not from necessity, but choice ? and 
merely to augment your means of ostentation 
and indulgence ? And are you to be found 
giving early notice to the world of any little 
addition made to your property, by an in- 
stant addition to your establishment or expend- 
iture ? Were two courses open to you, the 
one bright with gold, but beset with tempt- 
ation ; the other less lucrative, but rich in re- 



MAMMON. 105 

ligious advantages, — which would you be likely 
to adopt? 

Are you, at times, tempted to vow that you 
will never give any thing more in charity ? 
Instances are by no means of rare occurrence 
of imposture practised on the generous, and of 
kindness requited with ingratitude, and of be- 
nevolent funds unfaithfully administered ; and 
some of these painful examples may have come 
under your own observation ; — do you detect 
yourself, at such times, storing them up as 
arguments against future charity ? conveying 
them, as weapons of defence, into the armory 
of covetousness, to be brought out and em- 
ployed at the next assault upon your purse ? 
When you are called to listen to a discourse on 
the perils attending the possession of wealth, 
does the seed fall into congenial soil ? or, is 
it necessary, as often as the subject is intro- 
duced, that the speaker should reproduce his 
" strong arguments," in order to reproduce full 
conviction in your mind ? Which, think you, 
would make the greater demand on your pa- 
tience ; an argument to prove that you ought to 
give more to the cause of benevolence, or an 
excuse and justification for giving less ? 

You may sometimes find yourself passing a 
silent verdict of praise or blame on the pecu- 
niary conduct of others ; now, when you see 
an individual more than ordinarily careful of 
his money, do you regard him with a feeling 
of complacency? when you hear his conduct 
condemned, are you disposed to speak in his 



106 MAMMON. 

defence ? or, when you see a person prodigal 
of his property, is your feeling that of astonish- 
ment, as if he were guilty of a sin which you 
could not comprehend ? 

It is hardly possible that the temperature of 
benevolence should remain quite stationary at 
the same point, in any mind, for years together ; 
now, on instituting a comparison between the 
past and the present, do you find that you have 
suffered no decrease of genuine sensibility ; 
that you are quite as accessible to the appeals 
of beneficence now as you were ten or twenty 
years ago, and conscious of as much pleasure 
in yielding to them ? It is highly improbable 
that your worldly affairs are precisely the same 
now as they were at that distance of time ; but 
if the change has been on the side of pros- 
perity, have the oblations which you have laid 
on the altar of gratitude been proportionally in- 
creased ? or, if the change has been adverse, 
have your gifts been decreased only in propor- 
tion 1 And, among your regrets at the change, 
are you conscious of a pang at the necessity 
of that decrease. 

It is to the honour of the present day that the 
calls of benevolence multiply fast ; — which is 
there reason to believe you resent more, their 
rapid multiplication, or your inability to meet 
them all ? But, in order to meet them, have you 
never thought of retrenching any superfluity ? of 
reducing your expenditure? or do you only prac- 
tise that precarious and cheap benevolence which 
waits for the crumbs that fall from your table ? 



MAMMON. 107 

You may be scrupulously abstaining from 
certain worldly amusements, but having marked 
off a given space, in which you do not allow 
yourself to range, how are you conducting your- 
self in that portion in which you do move ? Are 
you not vying with the world in self-gratifica- 
tion? thinking of little besides the multiplication 
of your comforts ? living under the dominion of 
the inferior appetites ? as far removed from the 
salutary restraints and self-denial of the gospel, 
as from the exploded austerities of the monastic 
life ? In mechanics, the strength of a moving 
power is estimated by the amount of resistance 
which it overcomes ; now, what is the strength 
of your benevolence when tried by a similar 
test ? what does it overcome ? does it resist and 
bear down your vanity, love of ease, and self- 
interest ? does it impel you to sacrifice " the 
pride of life" that you may increase your con- 
tributions to the cause of mercy ? 

Of how many professing Christians may it 
not be appropriately asked, not only " How are 
you living, but where V You have retired from 
business, it may be ; but, in taking that step, 
whose will did you consult ? Did you refer it 
to the good pleasure of God ? did you retire 
that you might do more good than before 1 and 
are you doing it ? did you look out for a sphere 
in which you might render yourself useful 1 
But, whether you were formerly immersed in 
the business of the world or not, have you es- 
caped from a worldly spirit ? In the choice of 
your place of abode, in the distribution of your 



108 MAMMON. 

time, and the formation of your plans, do you 
take counsel from the word of God 1 Are you 
acting on the Christian motto, " No man liveth 
to himself ? r ' and are you employing your va- 
rious talents as if they came to you, bearing 
this inscription, from the hand that lends them, 
" Occupy till I come ? " 

You may hear occasionally of a munificent 
donation made unexpectedly by Christian grati- 
tude to the cause of God ; — what is your first 
emotion at the report I — admiration of the act ? 
and gratitude to the grace which produced it ? 
or a feeling that the donor has unnecessarily 
exceeded the rules of ordinary benevolence 1 
and a disposition to impute motives of vanity 
and ostentation ? If a benevolent mind had 
conceived some new project of mercy requiring 
pecuniary support, would your presence be a 
congenial atmosphere for the bud to unfold in ? 
or would the first emotion expressed in your 
countenance be a chilling doubt, or a blighting, 
withering frown 1 True benevolence is not only 
voluntary as opposed to reluctant — it is often 
spontaneous as opposed to solicited ; — but does 
yours always expect to be waited on '? has it 
always to be reminded ? does it need to be 
urged ? does it never anticipate the appeal, and 
run to meet its object ? And when you do give, 
is it your object to part with as little as you can 
without shame, as if you were driving a hard 
bargain with one who sought, to overreach you? 
and is that little parted with reluctantly, with 
a half-closed hand, as if vou were discharging a 



MAMMON. 109 

doubtful debt on compulsion ? Is it given with 
the air of a capitulation, or bribe, to importunity- 
leaving the applicant who receives it ill at ease? 
Do you think highly of the trifle you give ? not 
only calculating beforehand how much you can 
spare, but frequently remembering it afterward ? 
pluming yourself on the benevolent exploit ? look- 
ing out for its emblazonment in the ensuing re- 
port? and wondering how men can deny them- 
selves the luxury of doing similar good? — then 
the mark of selfishness is upon you. For, only 
remember how cheerfully you are constantly 
parting with similar sums for purposes of self- 
indulgence, soon forgetting them, repeating and 
forgetting them again, " thinking nothing of 
them." 

But to lay open the sin in all its disguises is 
impossible. These are mere hints for its detec- 
tion. Owing to their deficiency, however, or to 
your own negligence in applying them, the evil 
sought for may still be undiscovered. But let 
nothing flatter you into the persuasion that you 
are exempt from it. If any believer of the 
Jewish church could have defied its remotest 
approaches, surely that saint was David : if any 
description of natural character could form a gua- 
rantee against the sin, here was a man who ap- 
pears to have brought with him into the world 
the elements of magnanimity and generosity of 
soul ; yet we hear him cry, in the full conscious- 
ness of danger, ''Incline my heart unto thy tes- 
timonies, and not unto covetousness." If any order 
of piety in the Christian church could have claim- 



110 MAMMON, 

ed entire immunity from the sin, surely it was 
that to which Timothy belonged. Yet we hear 
the Apostle Paul warning even him. He had seen 
so many apparent proficients in piety drawn in 
by this moral Maehtroom, and " drowned in per- 
dition," that he called on his " dearly beloved 
Timothy, his own son in the faith" — called on 
him with more than his usual earnestness — to flee 
to the greatest distance from this fatal vortex. 
" O man of God," said he, " flee these things." 
As if, by a special appointment of heaven, the 
monitory strain addressed to a man of God — 
to such a man of God — and echoing through the 
church in all ages, should make it inexcusable 
for all inferior piety ever to doubt its liability to 
the sin. Of all the myriads who have appeared 
on the face of the earth, Jesus Christ is the only 
being who was entirely free from the taint. But 
he was ; he embodied the very opposite principle ; 
he was the personification of love. This it was 
which constituted his fitness to wage war with 
selfishness, and to become the Leader of the 
hosts of trie God of love in their conflicts with 
a selfish world. Had they been faithful to his 
cause, long ere this they would have reaped the 
fruits of a final and universal conquest. " But 
all seek their own ; not the things which are 
Jesus Christ's." 



MAMMON. Ill 

SECTION VII. 
THE GUILT AND EVILS OF COVETOUSNESS. 

Of the love of money, the apostle declares 
that it " is the root of all evil." Not that he 
meant to lay it down as a universal proposition 
that every act of wickedness originates in cu- 
pidity. But that, while many other sources of 
sin exist, there is no description of crime which 
this vice has not prompted men to commit. Of 
the life-giving tree of prophetic vision it is 
recorded, as a miracle of fertile variety, that " it 
bare twelve manner of fruits ;" but, as if to 
eclipse that heavenly wonder, here is an 
earthly root yielding poisons and death, at all 
times, and in endless variety. 

On no subject, perhaps, are the Scriptures 
more copious and minute than on the sin of 
covetousness. If a faithful portrait of its loath- 
some character can induce us to hate it; if a 
sight of the virtues which it has extinguished, 
the vices with which it is often associated, 
and the depraved characters in whom it has 
most flourished ; if the tenderest dissuasives 
from it, and the terrors of the Lord warning us 
against it ; if Sinai and Calvary uniting and 
protesting against it, — if all this combined can 
deter us from the sin of covetousness, then the 
Scriptures have omitted nothing which could 
save us from its guilty contamination. 

" Thou shalt not covet." Such is the lan- 
guage of that command which not only con- 
cludes, but at the same time completes, and 



112 MAMMON. 

guards, and encompasses the moral law. If 
love be the fulfilling of the law, it follows that 
the whole decalogue is to be regarded as a law 
against selfishness ; so that every selfish and 
every covetous act is, in effect, an infraction of the 
whole law. It is to love ourselves at the ex- 
pense both of God and our neighbour. 

Covetousness appears to have been the princi- 
pal element in the first transgression. For did 
not the sin consist, chiefly, in an inordinate de- 
sire for an object on which God had virtually 
written, " Thou shalt not covet," and which 
properly belonged to another ? in a disposition 
which originates all the acts of a grasping 
cupidity ? It is observable that the terms in 
which the primary sin is described, bear a close 
resemblance to those in which Achan describes 
his covetous act. " When I saw among the 
spoils," said he, u a goodly Babylonish garment, 
and a wedge of gold, then I coveted them, and 
took them.' 5 "And when the woman saw that 
the tree was good for food, and that it was plea- 
sant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to 
make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and 
did eat. She saw, she coveted, she partook. 

And having entered into the composition of 
the first sin, and thus acquired a bad pre-emi- 
nence, it has maintained its fatal ascendancy 
under each succeeding dispensation of religion. 

Covetousness, in the person of Lot, appears 
to have been the great sin of the patriarchal dis- 
pensation. The hope of increasing his wealth 
allured him first to pitch his tent near Sodom, 



MAMMON. 113 

and at length prevailed on him to enter the city, 
and to breathe its pestilential atmosphere : in 
consequence of which he became subsequently 
involved in acts so grossly sinful, that all the 
imperfections of the other patriarchs combined 
together, seem insignificant compared with it ; nor 
should we probably have supposed that he was a 
subject of piety had not the Bible assured us of 
the fact. 

In the instance of Achan, to which we have 
just alluded, covetousness was the first sin of 
the Israelites under their new dispensation in 
Canaan. It violated an express command ; 
brought defeat on the arms of Israel, and triumph 
to their foes. 

What was the first sin of the Christian 
church? it was covetousness in the instance of 
Ananias and Sapphira. It was covetousness 
which first interrupted the joy, and stained the 
virgin glory, of the present dispensation. And, 
presently, we shall see that it will take a leading 
part in the fearful drama of the final apostacy. 

The Scriptures exhibit covetousness as per- 
vading all classes of mankind. They describe 
it as having thrown the world generally into a 
state of infidel distrust of the Divine Providence, 
and of dissatisfaction with the divine allotments. 
" For after all these things," saith Christ, " do 
the Gentiles seek." They seek after worldly 
objects as independently and intently as if there 
were no providence to care for them, no God to 
be consulted. They pursue them to the entire 
neglect of every higher object. Sometimes 
8 



114 MAMMON. 

covetousness has been seen actuating and de- 
basing the character of an entire people. 
Against the Israelites it is alleged, " From the 
least of them even unto the greatest of them, 
every one is given to covetousness." Of Tyre 
it is said, " By thy great wisdom and by thy 
traffic hast thou increased thy riches, and thy 
heart is lifted up because of thy riches ..... 
thou hast set thy heart as the heart of God. 
And of Chaldea it is said, " Wo to him that 
coveteth an evil covetousness to his house, that 
he may set his nest on high, that he may be 
delivered from the power of evil." The insa- 
tiable desires, or the continued prosperity and 
boundless possessions of these nations had left 
nothing in the national character but rapacity, 
arrogance, and a proud impiety which braved 
the very throne of God. 

Descending to examine the component parts 
of a nation, we find covetousness infecting and 
pervading them all. Hear avarice speaking by 
the mouth of Nebuchadnezzar, " By the strength 
of my hand I have done it, and by my wis- 
dom I have robbed their treasures 

my hand hath found as a nest the riches of the 
people ; and as one gathereth eggs that are left, 
have I gathered all the earth." How vividly 
does Jeremiah depict its atrocities in the un- 
bridled conduct of a Jewish king ; " Thine eyes 
and thy heart are not but for thy covetousness, 
and for to shed innocent blood, and for oppres- 
sion, and for violence, to do it." And who that 
is familiar with sacred history does not here 



MAMMON. 115 

think of Ahab coveting the vineyard of Naboth, 
and obtaining it by artifice, subornation, and 
murder 1 

Covetousness in rulers leads to bribery and 
injustice. " Thou shalt take no gift," said 
Moses, " for the gift blindeth the wise, and per- 
verteth the words of the righteous." Accord- 
ingly, it is recorded of the sons of Samuel, that 
" They walked not in his ways, but turned aside 
after lucre, and took bribes, and perverted judg- 
ment." And of the Jewish rulers, " they are 

greedy dogs which can never have enough 

they all look to their own way ; every one for 
his gain from his quarter." And of Felix, that 
" he hoped that money would have been given 
him of Paul, that he might loose him." Covet- 
ousness has turned the priests and ministers of 
God into mercenary hirelings ; " The heads of 
Zion judge for reward, and the prophets thereof 
divine for money: yet Avill they lean upon the 
Lord, and say, Is not the Lord among us ? none 
evil can come upon us." In the department of 
trade, this sin induces the buyer to depreciate the 
thing which he wishes to purchase, and the 
seller to employ " divers weights and mea- 
sures," — thus generating fraud, falsehood, and 
injustice : while in both it leads to an impious 
impatience of the sacred restraints of the sab- 
bath, inducing them to say, " When will the 
new moon be gone, that we may sell corn ? 
and the sabbath that we may set forth wheat ? 
making the ephah small, and the shekel great, 
and falsifying the balances by deceit ; that we 



116 MAMMON: 

may buy the poor for silver, and the needy for a 
pair of shoes ; and sell the refuse of the wheat ?* 
Covetousness turns the master into an oppressor, 
and the servant into a thief. In illustration of 
the former, the Scripture describes a Laban 
evading his engagements with Jacob, u chang- 
ing his wages ten times," and exacting from him 
years of laborious servitude ; and it denounces 
those who, though their fields had been reaped, 
" kept back the hire of the labourer by fraud." 
And in illustration of the latter, it exhibits an 
unscrupulous Gehazi, plausibly lying, and 
enriching himself at the expense of his mas- 
ter's character, and of the honour of God ; 
and it exhorts servants to " be obedient unto 
their masters, not purloining, but showing all 
good fidelity." Thus have all classes, in various 
degrees, lived under the dominion of avarice. 

The Scriptures ascribe to the same sin, in 
whole or in part, some of the foulest acts, and 
the most fearful results, that have stained the 
history of man. Some of these we have already 
named. Oppression, violence, and murder, 
have been among its familiar deeds. " Wo to 
them that devise iniquity, and work evil upon 
their beds ! when the morning is light they 
practise it, because it is in the power of their 
hands. And they covet fields, and take them 
by violence ; and houses, and take them away: 
so they oppress a man and his house, even a 
man and his heritage." " So are the ways of 
every one that is greedy of gain ; who taketh 
away the life of the owners thereof." 



MAMMON. 11? 

In the person of Balaam eovetousness essay- 
ed to curse the chosen people of God; but 
failing in the infernal attempt, and yet resolved 
to clutch the promised reward, it devised another 
course, — it " taught Balak to cast a stumbling- 
block before the children of Israel, to eat things 
sacrificed to idols, and to commit fornication." 
The dreadful device succeeded, the displeasure 
of God was excited against the people, so that 
" there fell in one day three and twenty thou- 
sand." Such was " the way of Balaam, the 
son of Bosor, who loved the wages of un- 
righteousness." And so ingenious, persevering, 
and fatally successful, was " Balaam for reward." 
Covetousness instigated Judas to betray the Son 
of God, the Saviour of the world, " for thirty 
pieces of silver." It induced Ananias and Sap- 

phira to " tempt the Holy Ghost to lie, 

not unto men, but unto God." In the base ex- 
pectation of turning "the gift of God" to a 
lucrative account, it led Simon to offer to pur- 
chase that gift " with money." It has even as- 
sumed the sacred office, trod the courts of the 
Lord, " brought in damnable heresies," and " with 
feigned words" — words studied to render the 
heresy palatable and marketable — it has "made 
merchandise" of men. It converted the Jewish 
temple into " a den of thieves :" and among the 
articles of merchandise in the mystical Babylon 
were seen " the souls of men." 

The Scriptural classification of this sin is 
illustrative of its vile and aggravated nature ; for 
it stands associated with all the principal sins. 



118 MAMMON. 

In that fearful catalogue of the vices of the 
heathen world furnished by the Apostle Paul, in 
the first chapter of his Epistle to the Romans, 
covetousness stands forth conspicuous. 

When the Apostle Peter is describing the 
character of those false teachers who would 
arise in the church,- — and describing it with a 
view to its being recognised as soon as seen, and 
hated as soon as recognised, — he names covet- 
ousness as of their leading features. "But 
there were false prophets also among the peo- 
ple, even as there shall be false teachers among 
you, who privily shall bring in damnable here- 
sies, even denying the Lord that bought them, 
and bring upon themselves swift destruction. 
And many shall follow their pernicious^ays ; by 
reason of whom the way of truth shall be evil 
spoken of. And through covetousness shall they, 
with feigned words, make merchandise of you." 

Covetousness will be one of the characteristics 
of the final apostacy. " This know also, that in 
the last days perilous times shall come. For 
men shall be lovers of their own selves, covetous, 
boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to 
parents, unthankful, unholy, without natural 
affection, truce-breakers, false accusers, incon- 
tinent, fierce, despisers of them that are good, 
traitors, heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasure 
more than lovers of God." 

In the last quotation, covetousness is de- 
scribed as more than an attendant evil of the 
apostacy — it is one of its very elements. In the 
following places it is identified with idolatry : — 



MAMMON. 119 

" Fornication, and all uncleanness, or covetous- 
ness, let it not be once named among you, as 
becometh saints ; .... for this ye know, that no 
whoremonger, nor unclean person, nor covet- 
ous man, who is an idolater, hath any inheritance 
in the kingdom of Christ and of God." " Mor- 
tify therefore your members which are upon the 
earth ; fornication, uncleanness, inordinate affec- 
tion, evil concupiscence, covetousness, which is 
idolatry : for which things' sake the wrath of 
God cometh on the children of disobedience." 
In addition to which, the Apostle James evident- 
ly identifies it with adultery. " Ye covet, and 
have not ; .... ye ask, and receive not, because 
ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your 
lusts. Ye adulterers and adulteresses, know ye 
not that the friendship of the world is enmity 
with God ? whosoever therefore, will be a friend 
of the world is the enemy of God." 

Covetousness is not only subversive of the 
threefold law of Christian duty, personal, social, 
and divine, but it stands connected with each of 
the opposite series of vices. " From within, 
out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts, 
adulteries, fornications, murders, thefts, covet- 
ousness." " I have written unto you, not to 
keep company, if any man that is called a 
brother be a fornicator, or covetous, or an 
idolater, or a railer, or a drunkard, or an extor- 
tioner with such a one no not to eat." "Know 
ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the 
kingdom of God ? Be not deceived : neither 
fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor 



120 ^ludiox. 

effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mas^ 
kind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, 

nor revilers. nor extortioners, shall inherit the 
kingdom of God.'' ,; Having eyes full of adul- 
tery, and that cannot cease from sin ; beguiling 
unstable souls : a heart they have exercised 
with covetous practices ; cursed children/' 

In the first part of this classification^ we find 
covetousness distinguishing itself as a prime 
element in the great system of heathenism, even 
when that empire of depravity was at its worst. 
In the second part, we see it forming a leading 
feature in the character of men whose enormous 
impiety the apostle appears to have felt it a 
labour to describe. In the third, we behold 
covetousness lending an additional shade of 
horror to the perilous times of the apostacy — 
times so fearful,, in the estimation of the apostle ? 
that we may rest assured he would have admitted 
into his description of them none but evils of 
first-rate magnitude — and yet covetousness is 
not only there, it is among the first evils which 
he specifies. His classification implies, that of 
all the sins which will then prevail, selfishness 
will be the prolific root, and covetousness the 
first fruit. So that when the whole history of 
covetousness shall be read forth from the book 
of God's remembrance, it will be found that it 
entered largely into the first fall of man, and 
into the last fall of the church ; and that, during 
the long lapse of time between, it never lost its 
power, nor ceased to reign. From the fourth, 
we learn, that if the word of God identifies. 



MAMMON. 121 

eovetousness with some sins rather than with 
others, it is, partly, because . those sins rank 
first in guilt ; leaving us to infer that if there 
were a sin which ranked higher still, eovetous- 
ness would have been identified with that sin. 
What was the great sin of the Jewish dispensa- 
tion, but the sin of idolatry? it was to repeal the 
theocracy, to be guilty of treason against the 
throne of Heaven. " But," says the Apostle 
Paul, fearful as it is, " eovetousness is idolatry." 
What must have been the abhorrence with which 
a pious Jew regarded adultery, when the sin be- 
came associated in his mind as the Scriptural 
representation of the guilt of idolatry ! for 
" Judah committed adultery with stocks and with 
stones." And yet, great as his conception of 
its enormity must have been, the Apostle James 
declares of the covetous, that he is violating the 
most sacred obligations to God, that he is com- 
mitting adultery with gold. And what can be 
more fearful in the eyes of a sincere Christian 
than the sin of apostacy? of trampling under 
foot the Son of God 1 it is the very consumma- 
tion of guilt. And yet, fearful as it is, the 
Apostle Peter intimates that eovetousness is 
apostacy. And from the fifth part, we learn that 
eovetousness repeals the entire law of love ; 
that it proclaims war against all the virtues in- 
cluded in living " soberly, righteously, and 
godly," and is in sworn confederacy with all the 
opposite sins included in personal intemperance, 
injustice toward men, and impiety toward God. 
Nor is the reason of this alliance, or Scriptural 



122 MAMMON. 

classification, obscure. Covetousness is classed 
with intemperance — or the sins which appear 
to terminate on the man himself — because, like 
them, it tends to debase and imbrute him. It 
is ranked with injustice — or the sins directed 
against society — because, like them, if indulged, 
and carried out, it seeks its gratification at the 
expense of all the social laws, whether enacted by 
God or man. And it is associated with impiety 
— or sins directly against God — because, like 
them, it effaces the image of God from the 
heart, and enshrines an idol there in his stead. 

Such is a mere outline of the representations 
of Scripture in relation to the guilt and evils of 
covetousness. Entering with the first transgres- 
sion, and violating the spirit of the whole law, 
it has polluted, and threatened the existence of 
each dispensation of religion ; infected all classes 
and relations of society ; shown itself capable 
of the foulest acts ; is described as occupying a 
leading place in the worst state of heathenism, 
in the worst times of the apostacy, and in the 
worst characters of those times ; and has the 
worst sins for its appropriate emblems, and its 
nearest kindred, and " all evil" in its train. 

To exaggerate the evils of a passion which 
exhibits such a monopoly of guilt, would cer- 
tainly be no easy task. It has systematized 
deceit, and made it a science. Cunning is its 
chosen counsellor and guide. It finds its way, as 
by instinct, through all the intricacies of the great 
labyrinth of fraud. It parts with no company, 
and refuses no aid, through fear of contamina- 



MAMMON 123 

tion. Blood is not too sacred for it to buy, nor 
religion too divine for it to sell. From the first 
step in fraud to the dreadful consummation of 
apostacy or murder, covetousness is familiar 
with every step of the long, laborious, and fear- 
ful path. Could we only see it embodied, what 
a monster should we behold ! Its eyes have no 
tears. With more than the fifty hands of the 
fabled giant, it grasps at every thing around. 
In its march through the world, it has been 
accompanied by artifice and fraud, rapine and 
injustice, cruelty and murder ; while behind it 
have dragged heavily its swarms of victims — 
humanity bleeding, and justice in chains, and 
religion expiring under its heavy burdens, — 
orphans, and slaves, and oppressed hirelings, a 
wailing multitude, reaching to the skirts of the 
horizon ; and thus dividing the earth between 
them, (for how small the number of those who 
were not to be found either triumphing in its 
van, or suffering in its train,) it has, more than 
any other conqueror, realized the ambition of 
gaining the whole world, of establishing a uni- 
versal empire. From the first step of its deso- 
lating course, its victims began to appeal to 
God ; and, as it has gone on in its guilty career, 
their cries have been thickening and gathering 
intenseness at every step, and every age, till the 
whole creation, aiding them in their mighty 
grief, has become vocal with wo, and their cries 
have ascended, " and entered into the ears of 
the Lord of Sabaoth." " And shall I not visit 
for these things, saith the Lord," Even now 



124 MAMMON. 

his ministers of wrath are arming against it. Evert 
now the sword of ultimate justice is receiving a 
keener edge for its destruction : it is at large only 
by respite and sufferance, from moment to moment. 
During each of these moments, its accumulation 
of pelf is only an accumulation " of wrath against 
the day of wrath. 7 ' And when those dreadful 
stores shall be finally distributed among the 
heirs of wrath, covetousness shall be loaded 
with the most ample and awful portion. Its 
vast capacity, enlarged by its perpetual craving 
after what it had not, shall only render it a more 
capacious vessel of wrath, fitted to destruction. 

From this Scriptural representation of the 
guilt of covetousness, let us proceed to consider 
some of the specific evils which it inflicts on 
Christians individually, on the visible church, 
and, through these, on the world. 

Were it our object to present a complete cata- 
logue of the injuries which it inflicts on religion, 
we should begin by adverting to the fact that it 
detains numbers from God. Careful and troubled 
about many things, they entirely neglect the one 
thing needful. The world retains them so effec- 
tually in its service, that they have no time, no 
heart, to spare for religion ; and though some of 
them at times may cast a wistful glance in that 
direction, and even steal a visit, in thought, to 
the Saviour's feet, yet, like their prototype in 
the gospel, they " go away sorrowing," for the 
spell of mammon is upon them. 

As to the professor of Christianity, the evil 
in question operates to his injury, partly by en- 



MAMMON. 125 

gaging so much of that energy for the world, the 
whole of which would not have been too much 
for religion. The obstacles to the salvation of 
a man are so numerous and formidable, that the 
Scriptures represent his ultimate success as de- 
pending on his " giving all diligence to it." In 
the economy of salvation, therefore, God gra- 
ciously undertakes to watch over and provide 
for his temporal wants, that, being relieved from 
all distraction from that quarter, he might be 
able to bend and devote his chief strength to the 
attainment of heaven. But, in guilty counter- 
action of this arrangement, the covetous pro- 
fessor divides his forces between these two 
objects most disproportionately. He has but 
just sufficient fuel to offer up a sacrifice to God, 
and yet he consumes the principal part of it in 
sacrificing to Mammon. The undivided powers 
of his mind would not be too much for the claims 
of religion, and yet he severs and sends the 
greater proportion of his strength in an opposite 
direction. The consequence is, that his piety 
is kept in a low, doubtful, disgraceful state. 
His religious course is marked with hesitation 
and embarrassment. The cares of this world, 
and the deceitfulness of riches, engross that 
feeling which is the appropriate soil of religion, 
and which belongs to it alone. And to expect 
to reap the fruits of Christian benevolence from 
such a mind, would be to look for grapes from 
thorns, and figs from thistles. 

Nor does covetousness operate less injuriously 
by taking off his supreme trust from God, and 



126 MAMMON. 

giving it to the world. If a staff be placed in 
the hand of a bent and feeble man, what more 
natural than that he should lean on it ? Man is 
that impotent traveller, and wealth is the staff 
which offers to support his steps. Hence, in the 
word of God, it is repeatedly intimated that to 
possess riches, and to trust in them, is one and 
the same thing, except where grace makes the 
distinction. The term mammon^ for instance, 
according to its derivation, imports, whatever men 
are apt to confide in. The original term for faith 
is of the same derivation, and for the same rea- 
son — because it implies such a reliance on God 
as the worldly mind places on riches. So that 
mammon came to signify riches, because men 
so commonly put their trust on them. And when 
our Lord perceived the astonishment he had 
excited by exclaiming, " How hardly shall they 
that have riches enter into the kingdom of hea- 
ven," the only explanation which he gave, and 
which he deemed sufficient, imported, that as the 
danger of riches consisted in trusting in them, so 
the difficulty of possessing them, and not trusting in 
them is next to an impossibility— a difficulty which 
can only be surmounted by omnipotent grace. 

Now, to trust in any created object, is to par- 
take of its littleness, mutability, and debasement. 
But money is a creature of circumstances, the 
sport of every wind ; the Christian mammonist, 
therefore, can only resemble the object of his 
trust. By choosing a heavenly treasure, and 
making it the object of paramount regard, he 
would have gradually received the impress of its 



MAMMON. 127 

celestial attributes ; but by giving his heart to 
earthly gain, he identifies himself with all its 
earthly qualities ; lets himself down, and adapts 
himself to its insignificance ; and vibrates to all 
its fluctuations, as if the world were an organ- 
ized body, of which he was the pulse. 

The inconsistencies in which his covetous 
attachments involve him are grievous and many. 
His enlightened judgment impels him for happi- 
ness in one direction, and his earthly inclinations 
draw him in another. In the morning, and at 
night, probably, he prays, " Lead us not into 
temptation, but deliver us from evil ;" and yet, 
during the interval, he pursues the material of 
temptation with an avidity not to be exceeded 
by the keenest worldling. He hears, without 
questioning, our Lord's declaration concerning 
the danger of riches ; and yet, though he is 
already laden with the thick clay, and is daily 
augmenting his load, he doubts not of passing 
through the eye of a needle as a matter of course. 
He professes to be only the steward of his pro- 
perty ; and yet wastes it on himself, as if he 
were its irresponsible master. He pretends to 
be an admirer of men who counted not their 
lives dear unto them, provided they might serve 
the cause of Christ ; and yet he almost endures 
a martyrdom in sacrificing a pittance of his 
money to that cause ; while to give more than 
that pittance, especially if it involved an act of 
self-denial, is a martyrdom he never thought of 
suffering. He prays for the world's conversion, 
and yet holds back one of the means with which 



128 MAMMON. 

God has intrusted him to aid that specific object. 
He professes to have given himself up volunta- 
rily and entirely to Christ ; and yet has to be 
urged and entreated to relinquish his hold on a 
small sum which would benefit the church. — 
Indeed, the truths and means of salvation appear 
to have been so designedly arranged by God to 
condemn the covetous professor, that were he 
not blinded by passion, and kept in countenance 
by so numerous a fellowship, he would hear a 
rebuke in every profession he utters, and meet 
with condemnation at every step he takes. 

Covetousness frequently serves in the stead 
of a thousand bonds to hold a religious professor 
in league with the world. Indeed, the sin may 
be much more potent in him than in many of 
the avowed ungodly around him. In them, it 
has to divide the heart with other sinful propen- 
sities ; but in him, perhaps, it reigns alone. — 
They can range and wander at will over a larger 
field of sinful indulgences, but he is restricted to 
this single gratification. As a Christian pro- 
fessor, he must abstain from intemperance, 
licentiousness, and profanity ; but worldliness 
is a sphere in which he may indulge to a certain 
extent without suspicion, for the indulgence 
comes not within human jurisdiction. If he 
would be thought a Christian, he must not be 
seen mingling in certain society, nor indulging 
in a certain class of worldly amusements ; but, 
without at all endangering his Christian reputa- 
tion, he may emulate the most worldly in the 
embellishment of his house, the decoration of 



MAMMON. 129 

his person, the splendour of his equipage, or the 
luxury of his table. Accordingly, the only ap- 
parent difference between him and them is— 
not in the greater moderation of his earthly aims, 
not in the superior simplicity of his tastes, the 
spiritual elevation of his pursuits, th,e enlarged 
benevolence and Christian devotedness of his 
life — but, that the time which they occupy in 
spending, he employs in accumulating ; the 
energies which they waste in worldly pleasures, 
he exhausts in worldly persuits ; the property 
which they devote to amusements abroad, he 
lavishes on indulgences at home ; and while 
they are pursuing their gratification in one 
direction, he is indemnifying himself for not 
joining them by pursuing his gratification as 
eagerly in another. The loss of one of the 
bodily senses, it is said, quickens the percep- 
tion of those that remain ; worldliness alone 
remains to him, and that is quickened and 
strengthened by perpetual exercise. All that 
is unsanctified in his nature flows from the foun- 
tain of his heart with the greater force, that it 
has only this one channel in which to run. — 
He may therefore be the more worldly in reality, 
for not allowing himself to be worldly in appear- 
ance. His worldliness is only compressed into 
a smaller compass. Profess what he may, and 
stand as high as he may in the opinion of his 
fellow-professors, he is essentially a worldly 
man. The world has its sects as well as the 
church, and he may be said to belong to one of 
the " stricter sects" of the world, 
9 



ISO MAMMON, 

Covetousness generates discontent ; and tMsf 
is an element with which no Christian grace 
can long be held in affinity. It magnifies trivial 
losses, and diminishes the most magnificent 
blessings to a point ; it thinks highly of the 
least sacrifice which it may grudgingly make 
in the cause of God, feels no enterprise in his 
service, and never considers itself at liberty to 
leave its little circle of decent selfishness, in 
which its murmurs on account of what it has not 
are always louder than its thanks for what it 
has. " Let your conversation," therefore, says 
the apostle, " be without covetousness, and be 
content with such things as ye have." " God- 
liness, with contentment, is great gain." 

Covetousness neutralizes the effect of the 
preaching of the gospel. The Saviour saw this 
abundantly verified in his own ministry : and 
his parable of the sower intimated, that his 
ministers would see it exemplified in theirs also. 
The judgment of the hearer, it may be, is con- 
vinced of the divinity of religion ; he feels its 
power, and trembles ; he beholds its attractions, 
and is captivated. And could he, at such times, 
be detached awhile from his worldly pursuits, 
and be closely plied with the melting and majestic 
claims of the gospel, he might, by the agency 
of the Holy Spirit, be induced to lay up for 
himself a treasure in heaven. But the seed 
has fallen among thorns ; " The cares of this 
world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the 
word, and render it unfruitful." His impres- 
sions are written in sand ; and no sooner does 



MAMMON. 131 

he leave the house of God, than his worldly 
plans and prospects come back like the return- 
ing tide, and utterly efface them. 

Closely allied with this evil are formality and 
hypocrisy in religion. " They speak one to 
another, every one to his brother, saying, Come, 
I pray you, and hear what is the word that 
cometh forth from the Lord. And they come 
unto thee as the people cometh, and they sit be- 
fore thee as my people, and they hear thy words, 
but they will not do them : for with their mouth 
they show much love, but their heart goeth after 
their covetousness." To the eye of Omniscience 
they present the hateful spectacle of so many 
pieces of solemn formality going through the 
attitudes and sigRs of devotion, but destitute ot 
all corresponding emotions within. He asks 
for the heart alone ; but they have brought him 
all except the heart. That is far away, in the 
mart, the field, the business of the world, " buy- 
ing, and selling, and getting gain." 

In connection with this formality, there will 
necessarily exist a weariness and impatience 
under the restraints- of the sabbath. The 
worldly professor feels during the sacred hours 
as if every thing important were standing still. 
He is not sensible of any need for a day of rest, 
for the world does not tire him, or tires him only 
as a fatiguing pleasure to which he is anxious 
to return with renewed zest. And, until he 
can so return, the language of his heart, in rela- 
tion to the sabbath, is, " Behold what a weari- 
ness is it ! " 



132 MAMMON* 

But if religion be irksome to a person because 
it interrupts his worldly pursuits, it is but a short 
and easy step for him to turn religion itself into 
traffic. " Godliness is gain ;" but he re- 
verses the proposition, and " supposes that gain 
is godliness." Like the ancient Jews, he would 
croud the temple courts with " the tables of the 
money changers," and convert the sanctuary 
itself into the palace of mammon. His motive 
for assembling with the worshippers of God 
may be expressed in the language of the 
Shechemites, when adopting the religious rites 
of the sons of Jacob : " Shall not their cattle, 
and their substance, and every beast of theirs, 
be ours V But as the ruling principle of his 
conduct is gain, the same principle which in- 
duced him to assume religion may lead him to 
renounce it, and to " draw back to perdition." 

How many, w T ho had apparently deserted the 
service of the world, and enrolled themselves 
among the servants of God, does covetousness 
again reclaim, and swear them to allegiance 
afresh. " They did run well," but the fable of 
Atalanta became their history — a golden bait 
was cast in their path ; they stopped to take it, 
and lost the race. In how touching a manner 
does the apostle refer to the fatal declension of 
some — probably living characters, known both 
to himself and Timothy — and impute their apos- 
tacy entirely to their avarice. " Money," .... 
saith he, " which while some coveted after, they 
have erred from the faith, and pierced them- 
selves through with many sorrows." And how 



MAMMON. 133 

likely is it that Bunyan drew from personal ob- 
servation, when, in his inimitable allegory, he 
describes the professed pilgrims, Hold-the- 
world, Money-love, Save-all, and By-ends — 
names which still stand for living realities — 
as leaving the road, at the solicitation of Demas, 
to look at a silver mine " in a little hill called 
Lucre." " Now," he adds, " whether they fell 
into the pit by looking over the brink thereof, 
or whether they went down to dig, or whether 
they were smothered in the bottom by the 
damps that commonly arise, of these things I 
am not certain ; but this I observed, that they 
never were seen again in the wayP 

But where covetousness does not lead the 
professed believer to open apostacy, it involves 
him in the guilt of idolatry ; and this, in the eye 
of Scripture, is a step beyond. If the former 
be the rejection of the true God, the latter is the 
adoption of a false one. Endeavour to escape 
from the charge as he may, his covetousness is 
idolatry. The general impression on hearing 
this proposition is, that the term idolatry is only 
employed by the apostle in an accommodated 
sense — that covetousness is only figurative idol- 
atry. But in the figure lies its force. There is 
not more essential idolatry, at this moment, on 
the face of the earth, than that which the avari- 
cious man pays to his gold. The ancient Per- 
sian who adored the sun only as the visible image 
of God, was guiltless of idolatry compared with 
him. And the only pretence he can have for 
saying he is not guilty, is, that he does not per- 



134 MAMMON. 

form acts of bodily prostration before it. But 
acts of mere formal homage are no more neces- 
sary to constitute a man a worshipper of Mam- 
mon, than they are to render him a real worship- 
per of God ; in each instance, the homage of the 
heart is in the stead of all outward prostrations. 
And does not his gold receive that ? Is not his 
heart a temple from which God has been ex- 
cluded, in order to make room for Mammon 1 
While he worships God, formally, as if He were 
only an idol, does he not accord to his gold as 
much cordiality as if it were God ? regarding it 
with all those deep feelings, and mental glances 
of confidence, which should be reserved for God 
alone ? The idols of the heathen stood, so to 
speak, between heaven and earth, obscuring the 
vision of God, intercepting and appropriating the 
incense which should have ascended to the 
eternal throne : and does not his gold, instead 
of leading his thoughts in gratitude to God, 
stand between him and the Divine Being, con- 
cealing God from his view, engrossing his 
thoughts to itself, and filling him with that sa- 
tisfaction which the soul should find in God 
alone 1 If his gold could be endowed with the 
power of perception, would it not be tempted 
to think itself a god ? If it possessed the power 
of reading his heart toward it, would it not find 
its image enshrined there ? and a degree of af- 
fection lavished on it, and a closeness of com- 
munion maintained with it, such as a god might 
accept ? His covetousness is idolatry. 

Among the fatal evils inflicted by covetous* 



MAMMON. 135 

bbss on the church collectively, the corruption 
of its doctrines, and deterioration of its piety, 
form one of the greatest magnitude. This it 
has done in two ways ; first, by obtruding men 
into the sacred office who have taught erroneous 
doctrine as zealously as if it had been true ; and, 
secondly, by obtruding others who have taught 
an orthodox creed with which they had no sym- 
pathy, as coldly and heartlessly as if it had been 
false. The former have been founders of here- 
tical sects, and propagators of a spurious piety ; 
the latter have contributed to lay all piety to 
sleep, and to turn the church itself into the tomb 
of religion. The former have often prophesied 
falsely because the people loved to have it so, 
consulting the depraved tastes of those who 
would not endure sound doctrine ; the latter have 
consulted only their own tastes, which sought 
no higher gratification than the sordid gains of 
office. " Woe unto them ? .... for they have 
run greedily after the error of Balaam for re- 
ward." " A heart they have exercised with co- 
vetous practices; cursed children, ..... fol- 
lowing the way of Balaam, the son of Bosor, 
who loved the wages of unrighteousness/" Like 
him, both have equally, and for the same rea- 
sons, laboured in effect to " curse the children of 
Israel." Like the Pharisees of old, both have 
equally, and for the same reasons, ** made long 
prayers" their pretence, but the "devouring of 
widows' houses" their end. Like Judas, both 
have equally, and for the same reasons, be- 
trayed the son of God into the hands of his ene- 



136 MAMMON. 

mies. Like Simon Magus, both have trafficked 
in the things of God. Both alike have been 
" greedy of filthy lucre ;" have obtruded into 
the courts of the Lord ; taken up a position be- 
tween God and man ; and, through covetous- 
ness, have made merchandize of human souls. 
They have brought the world into the church ; 
and have sold the church to the world. This 
is the triumph, the apotheosis, of Mammon. 
Piety has left the temple weeping at the sight ; 
morality itself has been loud in its condemna- 
tion ; an ungodly world has triumphed, and 
" the Son of God been crucified afresh, and put 
to an open shame." " Wo unto them !" 

The magnitude of this evil is further apparent 
in the fact, that it has not only threatened to 
frustrate the design of the Christian church, as 
the instrument of the world's conversion ; but 
has done more than any other sin toward the 
fulfilment of the threat. That our blessed Lord 
consecrated his church to the high office of con- 
verting the world, is evident from the final com- 
mand which he gave it, to go and preach his 
gospel to every creature. That the execution 
of this sacred trust would be endangered prin- 
cipally by a spirit of covetousness, was possibly 
presignified by the sin of Judas. But a more 
emphatic intimation of the same danger had been 
given in the history of the Jewish church ; for 
the first sin of that church in Canaan, as we 
have remarked already, was in the accursed 
thing, when Israel fled before the men of Ai. 
And was there not a still more significant inti- 



MAMMON. 137 

mation afforded, in the earliest days of the 
Christian church, of danger from the same quar- 
ter ? its very first sin consisted in one of its 
members keeping back part of his property through 
covetousness. Whether or not these intimations 
were necessary, we will leave the history of the 
subsequent corruptions of Christianity to testify. 

But even since the church ceased to be the 
vortex of the world's wealth, since the period 
ceased when it gloried to repeat the Laodicean 
boast, " I am rich, and increased in goods, and 
have need of nothing ;" has benevolence been 
one of its characteristics ? The unrepealed 
command of Christ has been known to its mem- 
bers ; they have had the means of carrying it 
extensively into effect ; millions of their fellow- 
creatures have been passing into eternity, age 
after age, unsaved ; but their talent, meanwhile, 
if not hid in a napkin, has been multiplied 
chiefly for their own use. Their worldly pros- 
perity has so completely engrossed them, that 
they have thought it quite sufficient to attend to 
their own salvation, while the world around 
them has been left to perish. 

If this be innocence, what is guilt 1 If this 
be venial negligence, what is aggravated crimi- 
nality ? It is a sin whose guilt exceeds all com- 
putation. Let it be supposed that at some past 
period in the history of Britain, news had ar- 
rived of an awful visitation of nature, by which 
one of her distant colonies is in a state of fa- 
mine. Multitudes have died, numbers are dying, 
all are approaching the point of starvation. Be- 



138 MAMMON. 

sides which a powerful enemy is gathering on 
their frontiers, and threatening to hasten the 
work of death. The government at home opens 
its stores ; public charity bursts forth, and pours 
relief through a thousand channels. A fleet is 
freighted with the precious means of life, and 
despatched to the scene of suffering, wafted by 
the sighs and prayers of the nation. For a time 
it steers direct for its object. But, having lost 
sight of land, the ardour of those employed 
abates. Though engaged in a commission 
which angels might convoy, their impressions 
of its importance fade from their minds. A 
group of islands lies in their course, and, though 
far short of their destination, they decide to call. 
Prospects of mercantile advantage here present 
themselves ; the spirit of gain takes possession 
of them ; they are inclined, solicited, prevailed 
on to remain. Their original object of mercy is 
forgotten : the stores of life with which they 
had been intrusted are used and bartered as if 
intended only for themselves"; and thus an en- 
terprise of beneficence on which God had smiled, 
sinks into a base mercantile adventure. 

" But the supposition is impossible ; if any 
thing in the least resembling it had ever trans- 
pired, humanity would have wept at it, religion 
would have turned from the tale with horror ; 
it would have been viewed as an ineffaceable 
stain on our national character at which every 
cheek would have blushed and burned." Im- 
possible, in the sense supposed ; but in a higher 
sense it has been realized, and far, far exceeded. 



MAMMON. 139 

The world was perishing ; the compassion of 
God was moved ; the means o£ salvation were 
provided — and O ! at how costly a price ! the 
church was charged to convey them without 
delay to her dying fellow-men, and to pause not 
in her office of mercy till the last sinner had en- 
joyed the means of recovery. For a time the 
godlike trust was faithfully executed. " An an- 
gel flying through the midst of heaven," was an 
apt representation of the directness and speed 
with which the church prosecuted her task. 
Jesus beheld the travail of his soul and was sa- 
tisfied. Souls were snatched as brands from 
the burning. But a change came over her con- 
duct. The spirit of the world returned, and 
cast a spell on her movements. Continents 
were yet to be visited, and millions to be res- 
cued, when she paused in her onward course. 
Immortal men continued to perish by nations ; 
but the agents of mercy had abandoned their 
work. As if the stores of life with which they 
were intrusted, had been intended solely for 
their own use, they began to live unto them- 
selves. An enterprise of mercy, in which God 
had embarked his highest glory, and which in- 
volved the happiness of the world, was arrested, 
and lost to myriads, by a spirit of worldly gain. 
For, if, at any given period after the first age 
of the Christian church, the professed agents of 
mercy had been sent for, how would the great 
majority of them have been found occupied and 
engrossed but in " buying, and selling, and get- 
ting gain ?" " Each one," says Cyprian, as 



140 MAMMON. 

early as the middle of the third century, " each 
one studies how to increase his patrimony, and 
forgetting what the faithful did in apostolic times, 
or what they ought always to do, their great 
passion is an insatiable desire of enlarging their 
fortunes." 

This, however, is not the extent of the evil 
which covetousness inflicts on the cause of hu- 
man happiness. It has not only rendered the 
majority of professed believers useless to the 
church, and the church, for ages, useless to the 
world, but, through these, it has held the world 
in firmer bonds of allegiance to sin, than would 
otherwise have existed. 

Your devotedness to the world — we would 
say to the Christian mammonist— tends, more 
than any of the arguments of infidelity, to 
confirm men in their insensibility to the claims 
of the gospel. That gospel found you, we will 
suppose, in close worldly alliance with them- 
selves ; worshippers together in the temple of 
mammon ; running the same race for the prize 
of wealth ; having no aims or desires but such 
as wealth could gratify ; and, consequently, 
bending all your endeavours after it. Subse- 
quently, however, you profess to have under- 
gone a change : and, when they hear you de- 
scribe the nature of that change, or hear it de- 
scribed for you, they hear it said that you have 
at length found the pearl of great price ; that 
you have been put in possession of a good which 
renders you independent of all inferior things, 
and which enables you to look down with scorn 



MAMMON. 141 

on those objects about which you have been so 
eager and selfish, abandoning them to such as 
know no higher good ; that henceforth your 
treasure is in heaven, and there will your heart 
be also. 

They hear this, and are amazed ! They have 
not been able to detect the slightest abatement 
in the ardour of your worldly pursuits. They 
find you still among their keenest competitors 
in the race of wealth. What new object of affec- 
tion you may have adopted, they know not ; but 
they will readily acquit you of all ingratitude to 
your first love ; for they can testify that your 
pulse does not beat less truly to its smiles and 
its frowns than it did when you knew no other 
object of regard. Whatever object you may trust 
more, they know not; but this they can witness, 
that, judging from your conduct, you do not trust 
money less ; and, were it not that you say so, 
they would not have known that your eye was 
fixed on any invisible dependance. And when, 
besides this, they hear you admonished for your 
worldliness, and reproached with the tenacity 
of your grasp on wealth, and denounced for 
your devotion to self, and your want of devotion 
to the cause of your new adoption, how can 
they be otherwise than confirmed in their opin- 
ion that your profession is hypocrisy, and all 
religion only a name? And the effect is, to 
deepen the sleep into which they have sunk in 
the arms of the world. 

We all know the persuasive power which the 
example of the martyrs and early confessors Oi 



142 MAMMON. 

the cross exercised on those who beheld it. Their 
entire dedication of their property and lives to 
the cause of Christ struck at the very throne 
of Mammon. Numbers awoke as from a dream ; 
for the first time suspected the omnipotence of 
wealth, and were seized with a noble disdain of 
it. They saw men advancing with the stand- 
ard of a new kingdom ; the sincerity of those 
men they could not doubt, for they beheld them 
in their onward course, sacrificing their worldly 
prospects, trampling on their wealth, and smiling 
on confronting death. The contagion of their 
example they could not resist ; they fell into 
their train, and enrolled themselves as their 
fellow-subjects. But will not your opposite ex- 
ample, coinciding, as its worldly influence does, 
with the natural propensities of men, operate far 
more powerfully in detaining men from Christ ? 
Has your conduct ever allured them to revolt 
from the world to Christ ? Is it not more likely 
to seduce them from Christ, than to win them 
to him ? And is this thy ' kindness to thy 
friend ? Has He who died for you deserved 
this at your hands ? He intended that, by the 
evident subordination of your property to him, 
you should proclaim to the world your con- 
viction of his divine superiority, and thus aim 
to increase the number of his subjects ; where- 
as, your evident attachment to it, tells them 
there is a rival interest in your heart, weakens 
their conviction of your religious sincerity, and 
thus renders your wealth subservient to the 
empire of Satan. 



MAMMON, 143 

" The wicked blesseth the covetous, whom 
the Lord abhorreth." In order that you may 
see the guilt of your conduct in its true light, 
reflect, that the inordinate love of wealth, by 
disparaging and forsaking the only true stand- 
ard of excellence, has introduced an irrecon- 
cilable variance between the divine and the 
human estimate of every thing possessing a 
moral quality ; and that you, who ought to be 
giving your voice for God against the world, 
are virtually siding with the world against him, 
and acquitting and applauding the man whom 
the Lord condemns. 

The determinate influence of money, we say, 
appears in this — that it comes at length to 
erect a new standard of judgment, to give laws, 
and to found an empire, in contradistinction 
from the divine empire. The law of God pro- 
claims, " Thou shalt not covet ;" but in the 
kingdom of Mammon this law is virtually re- 
pealed, and it is made lawful for all his subjects to 
covet, provided they only covet according to rule 
— submit to a few easy conventional regula- 
tions. They possess a code of their own, by 
which a thousand actions are made legal, and 
have become familiar, though at evident vari- 
ance with the divine code. The authorities 
they plead are such as custom, convenience, ex- 
ample, utility, expedience ; " Yet their posterity 
approve their sayings." And their highest 
sanction's are, the fear of loss, and the hope of 
gain ; for " God is not in all their thoughts." 
In his kingdom the safety of the soul is placed 



144 MAMMON. 

above all other considerations ; in theirs it is 
treated as an impertinence and expelled. In 
their language wealth means wisdom, worth, 
happiness ; while the explanation which he 
gives of it is temptation, vanity, danger. He 
denominates only the good man wise ; while 
the steadfast and admiring gaze which they 
fasten on the rich, proclaims that, in their esti- 
mation wealth is in the stead of all other re- 
commendations, or rather an abstract of them all. 
And, at the very moment when God is pro- 
nouncing the doom of the covetous, and com- 
manding hell to enlarge itself for his reception, 
they, in defiance of the divine decision, are 
proud to catch his smiles, and to offer incense 
at his shrine. " The wicked blesseth the 
covetous, whom the Lord abhorreth." 

Thus, if sin has produced a revolution in this 
part of the divine dominions, it seems to have 
been the effect of wealth to give to that revolu- 
tion the consolidation of a well-organized em- 
pire. Alas ! how complete its arrangements, 
how stable and invincible its power. It has 
enacted new laws for human conduct, given new 
objects to human ambition, and new classifications 
to human character and society ; — the whole re- 
sulting in a kingdom in which the divine authority 
is unacknowledged, and from which every me- 
mento of the divine presence is jealously excluded. 

Now, one of the leading purposes of God in 
instituting a church is, that, in the midst of this 
awful confederation of evil, he might have 
a people perpetually protesting against the pre- 



MAMMON. 145 

vailing apostacy. For this purpose he gives 
them himself, that, by admitting them to the 
fountain, he might raise them, before the eyes 
of the world, to an independence of the streams. 
And, for the same purpose, he gives them a 
portion of earthly property, of that common ob- 
ject of worldly trust, that they might have an 
opportunity of disparaging it before the world, 
by subordinating it to spiritual ends, and thus 
publicly vindicating the outraged supremacy of 
the blessed God. 

How momentous the issue,, then, depending 
on the manner in which Christians employ their 
property. By their visible subordination of it 
to God, they would be " condemning the 
world," and putting a lasting disgrace upon its 
idol ; they would be distinguishing themselves 
from the world more effectually than by as- 
suming the most marked badge, or by making 
the most ostentatious profession ; they would be 
employing the only argument for the reality of 
religion which the world generally will regard, 
which it cannot resist, and which would serve 
in the stead of all other arguments. Many 
things there are which the world can part with, 
many sacrifices which it can make, in imitation 
of the Christian ; but to " esteem the reproach 
of Christ greater riches than all the treasures 
of Egypt," to sacrifice wealth is an immolation, 
a miracle of devotedness, which no arts of 
worldly enchantment can imitate. They can 
understand how religion may be subordinated 
to gain ; but that gain should be sacrificed to 
10 



146 MAMMON. 

God is a mystery which no article in their 
creed, no principle in their philosophy, can ex- 
plain. O, had the Christian church been true 
to its original design^ had its members realized 
the purposes of its heavenly founder, they 
would have chained the idol wealth to the 
chariot of the gospel, and have led it in triumph 
through the world ! 

But of how large a proportion of professing 
Christians may it be alleged that, as far as the 
church was intended to answer this end, they 
have conspired to frustrate the design of its in- 
stitution. Their property, which was meant to 
furnish them with the means of deprecating 
and denouncing the wealth-idolatry of the world, 
they have turned into an occasion of joining and 
strengthening the endangered cause of the 
world. Their conduct in relation to the gains 
of earth, which was intended to be such as to 
attract the notice and awaken the inquiries of 
mankind, has been the very point on which 
they have symbolized with the world more cor- 
dially than on any other ; standing on the same 
ground, pursuing the same ends, governing them- 
selves by the same maxims. By virtually falling 
down before the golden image which the world 
has set up, they have thrown opprobrium on the 
voluntary poverty of Christ, obscured the dis- 
tinctive spirituality of his kingdom, brought into 
question the very reality of his religion, and 
confirmed and prolonged the reign of Mammon. 
The man who deserts his post in the day of 
battle, and goes over to the enemy, is consigned 



MAMMON. 147 

by universal consent, to infamy of the deepest 
dye ; but they, by paying homage to wealth, 
have betrayed a cause which involves infinite 
results, have deserted their standard in the time 
of conflict, joined hands with the common foe, 
and thus lent themselves to reinforce and estab 
lish the dominion of sin. 



SECTION VIII. 
. THE DOOM OF COVETOUSNESS. 

If the guilt of covetousness be so enormous 
can we wonder at the variety of methods by 
which a gracious God seeks to prevent it 1 or 
at the solemn threatenings which a holy God 
denounces against it ? The description of the 
sin which we have already given, so evidently 
involves its condemnation, that, on this part of 
the subject, we shall be, comparatively, brief. 

The extreme punishment which awaits the 
practice of covetousness may be inferred from 
the circumstance that the tenth command de- 
nounces the sin in its earliest form. Unlike the 
other commands which, taken literally, only 
prescribe for the outward conduct, this speaks 
to the heart. It does not merely speak to the 
eye, and say, Thou shalt not look covetously. It 
does not merely speak to the hand, and say, 
Thou shalt not grasp covetously ; thou shalt not 
steal; the law had said this before. But, in- 
stead of waiting for the eye and the hand to do 
this, it goes in to the heart — " for out of the 



148 MAMMON. 

heart proceedeth covetousness" — and it says to 
the heart, " thou shalt not covet." And hence 
saith the apostle, " I had not known the sinful- 
ness of inordinate desire if the law had not 
said, Thou shalt not covet." It lays its fiery 
finger upon the first movement of covetousness, 
and brands it as a sin. 

Covetousness is a sin which more than most 
vices brings with it its own punishment. The 
very objects which excite it, form a rod for its 
chastisement. How perpetually and solicitously 
is God reminding us that the pursuit of these 
objects is attended with corroding anxiety and 
exhausting toil ; that they are filthy lucre — 
leading through miry ways to reach them, and 
polluting the hand that touches them ; that they 
are uncertain riches — always winged for flight * 
— so delusive and unsubstantial that they are ?iot, 
they are only the mirage of the world's desert ; 
that they are unsatisfactory — " for he that loveth 
silver shall not be satisfied with silver, nor he 
that loveth. abundance with increase ;" that the 
possession of them is often attended with mor- 
tification, and a separation from them with 
anguish ; in a word, that they are dangerous 
and destructive, leading men " into temptation 
and a snare, and piercing them through with 
many sorrows ;" and thus, in their very nature, 

* Thus the Greeks spoke of Plutus, the god of riches, 
as a fickle divinity ; representing him as blind, to intimate 
that he distributes his favours indiscriminately ; as lame, to 
denote the slowness with which he approaches ; and winged, 
to imply the velocity with which he flies away. 



MAMMON. 



149 



they bring with them a part of the doom of those 
who covet them. Like the deadly reptile armed 
with a warning rattle, they are so constituted as 
to apprize us of the danger of too close an ap- 
proach. They all seem to say as we put forth 
our hand to take them, " Do not covet me, do 
not take me to your heart, or I shall certainly 
disappoint, and injure, if not ruin you." Were 
all the property which has ever passed through 
the hands of men still in existence, and could 
we hear it relate the history of those who have 
possessed it, what tales of toil, anxiety, and 
guilt, of heartless treachery, and fiendish cir- 
cumvention, of consciences seared, and souls 
lost, and hell begun on this side death, would it 
have to unfold ! Might we not well recoil from 
it, and exclaim, " Give me neither poverty nor 
riches, but feed me with food convenient, for 
me — give us this day our daily bread." 

But in addition to the punishment which the 
sin involves in its own nature, God has often 
visited it with a positive infliction. Instances 
of this fact have already passed in review before 
us. Whether we advert to the losses and suf- 
ferings of Lot, the stoning of Achan, the leprosy 
of Gehazi, or the fate of Judas, the secret of 
their punishment is explained when the Almighty 
declares, " For the iniquity of his covetousness 
was I wroth, and smote him." And what do we 
behold in every such infliction but an earnest 
of its coming doom ? the scintillations of that 
wrath, the flashes of that distant fire which is 
kindled already to consume it ? 



150 MAMMON. 

And not only has he punished it ; he is visit- 
ing and denouncing it at the present moment. — 
" Wo to him that coveteth an evil covetousness 
to his house, that he may set his nest on high, 
that he may be delivered from the power of evil ! 
Thou hast consulted shame to thy house by 
cutting off many people, and hast sinned against 
thy soul. For the stone shall cry out of the wall, 
and the beam out of the timber shall answer it." 
The very house which he has built for his 
security shall reproach him for the grasping in- 
justice of the means by which it was reared. — 
Mysterious voices from every part of it shall 
upbraid and threaten him, for having pursued the 
gains of this world to the neglect of his immortal 
soul. It shall be haunted by the fearful spectre 
of his own guilty conscience ; it shall be the 
'prison-house of justice till he is called to the bar 
of God ; instead of defending him from evil, it 
shall seem to attract and receive all dreadful 
things to alarm and punish him. 

The law of God is still in the act of condemn- 
ing covetousness. The fires of Sinai, indeed, 
have ceased to burn, and its thunders have 
ceased to utter their voices, but that law, in 
honour of which these terrors appeared, is in 
force still ; that law which said, " Thou shalt 
not covet," is burning and thundering against 
covetousness still. It has been republished 
under the gospel with additional sanctions ; it 
is written by the finger of the Spirit on the 
fleshy tables of every renewed heart ; it is in- 
scribed by Providence on every object of human 



MAMMON. 151 

desire, to warn us of danger as often as our eye 
rests on them. And if, heedless of that warning 
we yet pursue those objects to excess, and put 
forth our hand to take them — if then the terrors 
of another Sinai do not kindle and flash forth 
upon us, it is not that the law has lost its force, 
but that it is reserving itself for another day. — 
Lost its force ! It is at this moment making 
inquisition in every human heart, and if there be 
but one feeling of inordinate worldly desire there, 
it takes cognizance of it, and denounces against 
it the wrath of God. Lost its force ! It is daily 
following the covetous through the world, track- 
ing them through all the windings of their devi- 
ous course, chasing them out of the world, pursu- 
ing them down to their own place, and kindling 
around them there fires such as Sinai never 
saw. 

" The wicked blesseth the covetous, whom 
the Lord abhorreth." Not only does the law 
condemn him, but God abhors him : and how 
hateful must that sin be which, in any sense, 
compels the God of mercy to hate the creatures 
which he himself has made, to loathe the work 
of his own hands ! Yet covetousness does this. 
And it is important to remark that the covetous- 
ness against which the Scriptures launch their 
most terrible anathemas is not of the scandalous 
kind, but such as may escape the censures of 
the church, and even receive the commendations 
of the world ; leaving us to draw the inevitable 
conclusion, that if the milder forms of the sin be 
punished, its grosser degrees have every thing 



152 MAMBUffl. 

to fear. Here, for example, is a covetous maU 
of whom the wicked speak well — a proof that he 
is not rapacious or avaricious, for a person of 
such a stamp is commended by none — and yet 
God abhors him. And who can conceive the 
misery of being abhorred by the blessed God ! 
How large a proportion of the suffering which 
the world at present contains might be traced 
to God's detestation of this sin : and, probably, 
since the guilt of the sin goes on rapidly increas- 
ing with every passing year, the punishment 
of it in this world will go on increasing also. 
How large a proportion of the misery of hell at 
this moment, points to this sin as its origin I 
And how rapidly, it is to be feared, does that 
numerous class of the lost go on augmenting of 
which the rich man in the parable forms the 
appalling type ! 

But, " behold, another wo cometh !' ? Another 
seal is yet to be opened, and Death will be seen, 
with hell following him. It is one of the classes 
of the covetous especially that the apostle Peter 
declares, '-'their judgment now of a long time 
lingereth not, and their damnation slumbereth 
not." — The angel charged with their destruction 
is on the wing, and is hourly drawing nearer. 
And the apostle James, addressing the covetous 
of his day, exclaimed, in reference to the 
approaching destruction of the Jewish state, 
" Come now, ye rich men, weep and howl over 
the miseries that are coming upon you. Your 
riches are corrupted, and your garments are 
moth-eaten. Your gold and silver are cankered, 



MAMMON. 153 

and their rust shall be a witness against you, 
and shall eat into your flesh as fire : ye have 
laid up treasures for the last days." But if 
temporal calamities called for such an intense 
agony of grief, such a convocation of tears, and 
groans, and lamentations, where is the form of 
sorrow equal to the doom which awaits the 
covetous in the last day ! — where are the tears 
fit to be shed in that hour when the tarnish of 
that gold and silver which ought to have been 
kept bright by a generous circulation, shall 
testify against them, and, like caustic, shall 
corrode and burn them ! — and when, however 
much they may have suffered for their covet- 
ousness on earth, they shall find that they were 
only receiving the interest of the wrath they 
had laid up, that the principle has gone on daily 
accumulating ; that they have been treasuring 
up wrath against the day of wrath, till the dread- 
ful store has overflowed. 

The covetous will then find themselves placed 
" on the left hand of the Judge." And he will 
say unto them, " I was hungry, and ye gave me 
no meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave me no 
drink : I was a stranger, and ye took me not in : 
naked, and ye clothed me not : sick, and in pri- 
son, and ye visited me not." Then practical 
benevolence, as the result of evangelical piety, 
is the hinge on which our final destiny will turn ! 
This language contains a rule of judgment which 
in the hands of Christ, is capable of receiving 
universal application. It obviously implies that 
he has a cause in the world — the cause of 



154 MAMMON. 

human salvation ; and that all who do not 
practically attach themselves to it, deny them- 
selves on account of it, love those who belong 
to it, and supremely value him who is the 
Divine Author of it, will be finally disowned 
and condemned. 

And here again it is important to remark that 
the covetousness which is threatened to be 
placed at the left hand of the Judge, is not of 
the scandalous kind. Had not the Judge him- 
self described it, we might have supposed that 
this fearful position would be occupied only by 
the outlaws of humanity, monsters of rapacity, 
avarice, and injustice. But no. The fig-tree 
was withered, not for bearing bad fruit, but for 
yielding no fruit. The foolish virgins were 
excluded from the marriage -feast, not for casting 
away their lamps, but for not using them. The 
unprofitable servant was cast into outer dark- 
ness, not for wasting the talent committed to 
him, but for not employing it. The worldling, 
whom our Lord denominates a fool, is not 
charged with any positive sins : for aught that 
appears he had been honest and industrious ; 
his diligence had been crowned with success, 
and he proposed to enjoy that success in retire- 
ment and ease ; — and what is this but an every- 
day history 1 or where is the man that does not 
commend him, and take him for a model ? But 
he had " laid up treasures" only " for himself, 
and was not rich toward God ;" and therefore 
is he summoned suddenly to appear, as a guilty 
criminal, at the bar of God. And they who do 



MAMMON. 155 

not now learn the moral of his history — " to 
take heed and beware of covetousness" — are 
here represented as finally sharing his doom. 
They may have been as free as the reader from 
all the grosser vices. They may have had 
many negative virtues, like him, and have 
often boasted that they did no harm. But the 
ground of their condemnation will be that they 
did no good. They may have occasionally ex- 
ercised that empty benevolence which costs 
neither effort nor sacrifice. But they practised 
no self-denial, made no retrenchments, took no 
pains, in the cause of mercy. They never 
once thought of adopting and espousing that 
cause as an object in which they were interest- 
ed, and which, looked to them for support. 
Had it been left entirely to them, it would have 
been famished with hunger, have pined in sick- 
ness, have been immured in a prison, and have 
perished from the world. Most justly, there- 
fore, will they find themselves placed on the 
left hand of the Judge. 

In that fearful situation the covetous man will 
be an object of wonder and aversion to all the 
righteous. " The righteous shall see, and shall 
laugh at him : Lo, this is the man that made 
not God his strength, but trusted in the abun- 
dance of his riches." In a popular sense he 
may have been moral, and even generous : but 
he had " made gold his hope, and had said to 
the fine gold, Thou art my confidence." His 
wealth had been his strong tower, but that 
tower shall attract the bolt of heaven. His 



156 MAMMON, 

very armour shall draw the lightning down. 
The exposure of his trust shall excite the scorn 
and derision of the universe. " Men shall 
clap their hands at him, and shall hiss him out 
of his place." That he should have thought to 
extract happiness from a clod of earth ; that he 
should have re ckon e d a little gold an equivalen t for 
God ; that a rational and immortal being should 
have been guilty of such an enormity will sus- 
pend all pity in the minds of the righteous. 
The unhappy being will behold every finger 
pointed at him in scorn ; will hear himself 
mocked at as a prodigy of folly ; will be scoffed 
and chased beyond the limits of God's happy 
dominions. 

" He shall not inherit the kingdom of God." 
In the classifications of this world the Chris- 
tian mammonist may stand among the holy and 
excellent of the earth ; but, in the final arrange- 
ment of the judgment day, he will have a new 
place assigned him. As soon as his character 
becomes known, the righteous will no longer 
be burdened and disgraced with his presence ; 
they will cast him forth as an alien from their 
community ; " he shall not inherit the kingdom 
of God." And the very same act which re- 
moves him from their community shall transfer 
him " to his own place" — to the congenial so- 
ciety of the drunkard, the unbeliever, the idola- 
ter, and of all who, like himself, made not God 
their trust. " Know ye not," saith the apostle, 
that this is the divine determination ? It is no 
new arrangement, no recent enactment of the 



MAMMON. 



157 



Supreme Lawgiver, arising from a view of the 
exigency of the case ; it is the operation of a 
known law, eternal and immutable as his own 
nature : — " He shall not inherit the kingdom of 
God." The lax opinions of the church on the 
sin of covetousness may delude him with the 
hope that he shall, that cupidity alone shall not 
exclude him from the divine presence ; but " let 
no man deceive you with vain words," saith the 
apostle ; the decree has gone forth against 
every covetous man, whatever his standing 
may be in the Christian church,—" He shall 
not have any inheritance in the kingdom of 
Christ and God." The splendours of a worldly 
kingdom he may inherit ; streams of worldly 
affluence may seem to seek him, and, like a 
sea, he may receive them all ; but he gives not 
God the glory, he makes himself no heavenly 
friends with the mammon of unrighteousness, 
he thinks not of transferring his treasures by 
deeds of beneficence to the hands of God, and, 
consequently, when he passes out of time into 
eternity, though he should be sought for before 
the throne of God above, sought for diligently 
among all the ranks of the blessed, he would 
no where be found, for " he shall not inherit 
the kingdom of God." 

The final destination of the covetous is hell. 
Having convicted them of their guilt the Judge 
will say to them, in common with all the other 
classes of the ungodly, " Depart from me, ye 
cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the 
devil and his angels." And then will they be- 



158 MAMMON. 

hold their covetousness in its true light. They 
will see that it involved an attempt to erect 
another centre than God, in which they might 
find happiness and repose ; and, therefore, 
when he shall place himself as in the centre of 
his people, and say to them, " Come " the 
covetous will feel the rectitude of the sentence 
which shall command them to " depart." They 
will then discover that, in withholding their 
property from benevolent objects, they were 
withholding it, in effect, from him ; and, there- 
fore, they shall acknowledge the justice of his 
withholding himself from them. They belong 
to a schism, compared with which every other 
is unworthy of the name — the great schism of 
the selfish. Though professing to belong to 
that vast spiritual community in heaven and 
earth, of which Christ is the supreme head, 
they will then discover that, in reality, they 
have attached themselves to the great party of 
the world, adopting its symbols, governing 
themselves by its maxims, ' and pursuing its 
ends ; and therefore with it they must " de- 
part." And then first will they estimate truly 
the dreadful nature of their doom. For, when 
he shall say, " Depart," every thing else — 
every being, every place in the universe, but 
hell — shall repeat, " Depart ;" casting them 
forth, disowning them, and refusing them sym- 
pathy and refuge. " The heaven shall reveal 
their iniquity, and the earth shall rise up 
against them." " They shall go away into 
everlasting punishment." 



MAMMON. 159 



SECTION IX. 

EXCUSES OF COVETOUSNESS FOR ITS WANT OF 
LIBERALITY. 

In his solemn description of the general 
judgment, our Lord represents the ungodly as 
startled at the true picture of their own selfish- 
ness. Never having reflected on their conduct 
in its religious bearings and ultimate effects, 
they cannot allow that the charge alleged by 
the Judge can have any application to them. 
They hasten, therefore, to put in their pleas in 
arrest of judgment, to stay their doom. In like 
manner, on surveying the magnitude of the 
evils arising to religion from a covetous spirit, 
the first impression of a person implicated may 
probably be of the nature of a remonstrance 
which may be interpreted thus : — If I am 
chargeable with cupidity, the degree in which 
I indulge the passion can surely bear no rela- 
tion whatever to evils so enormous and conse- 
quences so dreadful. I have often giveh'to the 
claims of benevolence ; I am in the habit of 
contributing as others do ; I consider that I am 
benefiting the community as much, if not more, 
by spending than by giving ; I give as much as 
I conveniently can ; had I more to bestow I 
would certainly give it ; and / intend to remem- 
ber the cause of God in the final arrangements of 
my property ; so that, whoever may merit these 
strictures on covetousness, they can only apply 
to me, if at all, in the most mitigated sense. 



160 MAMMON. 

The plausible air which this remonstrance 
wears requires that it should receive examina- 
tion. You have given, you say, to the cause of 
Christian philanthropy. But, it may be inquired, 
when have you given ? Has it been only when 
your sensibility has been taken by surprise ? or 
when a powerful appeal has urged you to the 
duty ? or when the example, or the presence, of 
others, has left you no alternative ? or when the 
prospect of being published as a donor tempted 
your ostentation ? or when importunity annoyed 
you ? or when under the passing influence of a 
fit of generosity ? We would not too curiously 
analyze the composition of any apparent virtue : 
nor would we have you to suspend the practice 
of charity till you can be perfectly certain that 
your motives are unmixed. But we would 
affectionately remind you that if you have given 
to God at such times only, it proves to a demon- 
stration that you are covetous at all other times. 
Your covetousness is a habit, your benevolence 
only an act ; or, rather, it is only the moment- 
ary suspension of your prevailing habit ; and, 
as the circumstance that a man enjoys lucid 
intervals does not exempt him from being class- 
ed among the insane, so your accidental and oc- 
casional charities still leave you in the ranks of 
the covetous. 

But as you plead that you have given, it may 
be inquired further — what have you given ? The 
mere circumstance of a Christian professor de- 
voting a part of his property to God does not 
denominate him benevolent ; otherwise Ananias 



MAMMON. 161 

must be honoured with the epithet ; and yet it 
was his covetousness which involved him in 
falsehood, and his falsehood drew down destruc- 
tion. " There is that withholdeth more than is 
meet :" if men were to be denominated by that 
which characterizes them in the sight of God, 
how many an individual who is now called be- 
nevolent on account of what he gives, would be 
stigmatized as covetous on account of what he 
withholds. Which can more properly be said 
of you, that you have given, or that you have 
withheld 1 Would you not feel degraded and 
displeased to hear others reporting of you that, 
slender as your contribution is, it is all you can 
give ? Numbers profess to give their mite ; by 
which, though they may not' confess it to them- 
selves, they feel as if they had in some way 
approached the example of the widow, if not 
actually entitled themselves to a share of her 
praise. While, in fact, there is this immense 
distinction, that whereas she cast into the trea- 
sury only two mites because it was her all, they 
cast in only a mite in order that they may 
keep their all. They pay this insignificant frac- 
tion in tribute to a clamorous conscience, in order 
that they may buy off the great bulk of their 
wealth, and quietly consume it on their selfish- 
ness. Her greatness of soul, her magnanimous 
benevolence, held the Saviour of the world in 
admiration, and drew from him words of com- 
placency and delight. Their pretended imita- 
tion of her conduct is an insult to her munifi- 
cence, and to the praise which the benevolent 
11 



162 MAMMON, 

Jesus bestowed on it. And yet to which of 
these two classes of donors do you approach 
the nearest 1 Benevolence, you are aware, is 
comparative : there are some who have given 
their all to God, and there are those who may 
almost be said to keep their all to themselves, — 
to which of these two descriptions do you bear 
the greater resemblance 1 The tree is known 
by its fruits ; now it might not be an unprofitable 
exercise for you to examine whether you are 
prepared to rest your claims to the Christian 
character on the proportion in which you have 
borne the fruits of Christian benevolence. 

A second plea is, that you believe you are in 
the habit of contributing to the cause of mercy 
as others do. But have you— a Christian friend 
might inquire — have you ever reflected whether 
or not others have adopted the right standard of 
benevolence ? The amount of property devoted 
by the Christian public to God is annually in- 
creasing : does not that imply that Christians, 
at present, are only approaching the proper 
standard of liberality, rather than that they have 
already reached it ? And would it not be noble, 
would it not be godlike in you were you to reach 
that standard before them ? were you to take your 
rule immediately from the cross itself, rather 
than from the example of those who, it is to be 
feared, are standing from it afar off? 

Christians, in the present day, seem to have 
entered into a kind of tacit compact, that to give 
certain sums to certain objects shall be deemed 
benevolent : the consequence of which is, that, 



MAMMON. 163 

though most of them are contributing less than 
" of the ability which God giveth," they yet 
never suspect their claim to be deemed liberal. 
And another consequence is, that when a 
Christian distinguishes himself, and stands out 
from the ranks of the church, by a noble deed 
of liberality, though constrained to admire him, 
they do not consider themselves called on to 
imitate ; for they feel as if he had exceeded the 
rules., passed the prescribed limits, of benevo- 
lence. 

We have supposed that you not only plead 
the example of others, but that you are also 
ready to add, " I contribute as much as I co?i- 
veniently cany Here, however, two questions 
instantly arise ; first, whether you mean that you 
devote to God as much of your property as is 
convenient to your luxury, or convenient to 
your bare personal comfort 1 And, secondly, 
whether what is generally understood by per- 
sonal convenience is precisely the kind of arbi- 
trator to which a Christian can safely refer the 
amount of his charity ? 

When you say that you contribute as much 
as you conveniently can, we presume your 
meaning to be that you devote to benevolent 
uses all that your present rate of expenditure 
happens to leave unappropriated to other objects. 
But here again two questions arise : if your 
expenditure is calculated and reduced to a plan, 
ought not the question, how much shall I devote 
to God? to have made an original part of that 
plan ? But since you confess that grave 



164 MAMMON. 

omission, ought you not now to think of 
retrenching your expenses, and reducing your 
plan, that your charity may not be left to the 
mercy of an expensive and selfish convenience ? 
Do you not know that all the great works of 
the Christian church have been performed by 
sacrificing your favourite principle convenience? 
that a Croesus himself might find it convenient 
to give but little in charity ? and an Apicius to 
give nothing ? and that if the men who, in all 
ages, have been most dis tin orui shed for extend- 
ing the kingdom of Christ had listened to the 
dictates of convenience, they would have lived 
and died in inglorious and guilty indolence ? 
And need you be reminded, how easily God 
could convince you, by simply reducing your 
present income, that you might have made it 
convenient to contribute to his cause more than 
you now do, by the exact amount of that re- 
duction ? And do you not see, that your 
unfaithfulness to your present trust may 
operate with God to forbid your further 
prosperity ? for is it not a law of his kingdom 
that the misimproved talent shall be withdrawn 
from the possessor, rather than increased? 
Besides which, you are closing your eyes to 
eternal consequences ; for " he that soweth 
sparingly shall reap also sparingly." The hus- 
bandman who should grieve that, he had land 
to sow, and begrudged the seed which he sowed 
in it as lost, would be wise and innocent com- 
pared with the man who, while professing to 
believe that his charity is seed sown for an eter- 



MAMMON. 



165 



nal harvest, should yet stint and limit his gifts to 
the precarious leavings of an improvident con- 
venience. 

Or you may be ready to plead, " I consider 
myself not only justified in my present style of 
living, but as benefiting the community by 
spending a portion of my property in luxuries, 
more than by giving that portion of it away in 
alms ; besides, by so expending it, I am employ- 
ing and supporting the very classes who subscribe 
to and principally sustain the cause of Christian 
charity." 

To such a statement we can only reply, 
generally, that your scale of expenditure must 
depend, partly, on the rank you hold in society ; 
that to arbitrate correctly between the claims of 
self and the cause of mercy, is the great problem 
of Christian benevolence ; and that if you have 
solved this problem Scripturally and conscien- 
tiously before God, it is not for man to sit in 
judgment on your conduct. 

But if you have not — if the question still re- 
main open for consideration, your attention is 
earnestly solicited to three classes of remark — 
economical, logical, and religious. 

When you speak of benefiting the community 
by spending, more than by giving, you are, in 
effect, raising a question in political economy. 
Now, to this it may be replied, that the Chris- 
tian liberality to which you are urged is not that 
indiscriminate alms-giving which would encou- 
rage idleness and improvidence. The introduc- 
tion of such an idea is quite beside the question 



166 MAMMON. 

in hand. The charity which you are called 

on to exercise is such as would leave the whole 
apparatus of useful production untouched ; or 
which would touch it only to render it more 
effective and beneficial — a charity which should 
at once discourage vice ; assist the helpless, 
destitute, and diseased ; reclaim and reform the 
vicious ; civilize barbarism ; call into activity 
the physical, mental, and moral resources of 
savage lands ; excite and reward industry ; 
instruct the ignorant ; circulate the word of 
God ; send the agents of the Christian church 
in all directions ; and which should thus furnish 
employment for multitudes, give a direction to 
the energies of men which should bear fruit for 
both worlds, modify and raise the tone of poli- 
tical economy itself, and thus be the means of 
lifting earth nearer heaven. 

And then, as to the value of labour and 
wealth, you have to consider that the labour 
which is beneficial to the individual, may be 
quite unprofitable to the country, and, in the 
end, injurious, and. even ruinous; otherwise, 
war, or the multiplication of gaming-houses and 
gin-palaces, by giving employment to numbers, 
must be hailed as a blessing ; instead of which, 
it might easily be shown that, in a variety of 
ways, they operate economically as a curse. You 
have to consider, also, that it is not the mere 
increase of a nation's wealth which enhances 
its permanent prosperity ; otherwise, the colo- 
nial mines of Spain would be still her boast and 
glory, instead of accounting, as they unquestion- 



MAMMON, 167 

ably do, for her national poverty. And the 
question is, whether much of your outlay, though 
it may encourage labour, and increase the 
present wealth of the nation, has not, when 
viewed as apart of a great and slowly developed 
system, a tendency to generate many of the evils 
which the economical science deplores, of 
shortening the intervals between what are called 
the periodical crashes, and of proving in the end 
a national bane, and not a blessing. 

We might indeed, by taking advantage of a 
distinction which obtains in political economy 
between productive and unproductive consumption, 
undertake to show, that by expending your reve- 
nue on the superfluities of life you are con- 
suming it unproductively , that is, in a way which 
does not add to the annual quantity or value of 
the national produce ; and that you are thus 
comparatively sinking and absorbing in self- 
indulgence that which might have augmented 
the national wealth, and have made you a greater 
national blessing. So that, though we do not 
say that the science blames you, yet the praise 
which it accords to you is but secondary and 
qualified. 

But not only is not an unnecessary expenditure 
productive of the good you imagine, it is attended 
with positive evils. For, in order to support it, 
a proprietor of land, for instance, must raise his 
rents ; in order to pay these, the farmer must 
raise the price of his produce ; and in order to 
purchase that, the labourer must receive in- 
creased wages ; and the consequence is, that 



168 MAMMON. 

that large number of the human family whose 
means of subsistence are precarious, experience 
an increased difficulty in obtaining even this 
scanty supply. Besides which, a useless con- 
sumption, by keeping up a high scale of expend- 
iture, and engrossing the time of the producer, 
prevents leisure, and thus retards mental cultiva- 
tion, and real improvement. 

Again : employing the term logicalm the hum- 
blest sense, and for the sake of distinction, it 
may be inquired — if there be really so much 
benefit as you suppose accruing to the commu- 
nity from what you spend on superfluities, would 
you not be justified in spending more upon them ? 
Ought it not to become a serious question with 
you, w T hether or not you are spending enough 
upon them ? whether it be not your duty to 
spend all you can upon them ? to withdraw even 
that small modicum which you now dispense in 
charity, and to devote that also to " the pride 
of life ?" But from such a conclusion you recoil 
with dismay ; though it seems only the legiti- 
mate application of your own principle. You 
add also, that the money which you expend in 
luxury actually employs the very classes who 
subscribe to, and principally support, the cause 
of Christian charity. As far as you are con- 
cerned, remember, this is purely accidental. 
Whatever credit may be due to them for thus 
consecrating the fruit of their labour to God, 
not a particle of that credit can properly accrue 
to you. Besides, if they do right in thus 
taking their property to God are not you doing 



MAMMON. 169 

wrong in taking your property from him ? 
and will not their conduct be cited against you 
in condemnation 1 To be consistent with your- 
self, you must actually condemn them for 
appropriating so much of their property to God. 
On your principle, they are essentially wrong 
for not indulging more in superfluities. For if 
your self-indulgence, in this respect, works so 
beneficially for the general good, would not their 
self-indulgence work equally well ? From this 
conclusion, also, you probably recoil, though it 
seems only the legitimate application of your 
own principle. 

But, as a professed follower of Christ, you will 
surely prefer to decide the question on religious 
grounds ; aware, as you are, that whatever is 
morally wrong cannot be politically right. 
Now you profess freely to admit that the claims 
of Christian charity should be supported ; the 
only question with you is, whether you are not 
doing more good by spending what you do in 
luxury, than by dispensing it all in charity 
But, let me ask you, as under the eye of Omni- 
science — is your ruling motive, in this lavish 
expenditure, a sincere desire to benefit the 
community ? or are you not actuated rather by 
a love of self-gratification ? Because, if so, it 
would be well for you to remember that, though 
God may overrule your evil for good — though 
your profusion, as a matter of political economy, 
should be proved to work well, and to be 
worthy of praise, yet, as a question of morality, 
bearing on your eternal state, it may endanger 



170 MAMMON. 

your safety, and aggravate your condemnation. 
If it be true that your eternal welfare depends 
on the ascendancy which the spiritual may now 
gain over the sensible — and that every addi- 
tional worldly indulgence is so much advantage 
given to the flesh over the spirit, are you not, 
by your profusion, endangering your own ever- 
lasting peace for the sake of uncertainly pro- 
moting the temporal welfare of others ? and is 
not this a most romantic mode of self-immola- 
tion ? a loving of your neighbour, not merely as 
yourself, but enthusiastically more, and infinite- 
ly better, than yourself 1 In addition to which 
your profusion deprives you of the power of 
performing any great acts of liberality. It in- 
vites the classes below you to aspire to an imi- 
tation of your style of living. It provokes that 
fierce and ruinous competition of fashion so 
generally complained of, and which you your- 
self, perhaps, loudly deprecate ; and it gives 
the enemies of religion occasion to triumph, 
and to say, in the language of one of our lead- 
ing reviews, " The godly testify no reluctance 
to follow the footsteps of the worldly, in the 
way to wealth. They quietly and fearlessly 
repose amidst the many luxuries it enables 
them to procure. We see their houses furnish- 
ed in every way to gratify the lust of the flesh, 
the desire of the eye, and the pride of life ; and 
their tables covered with the same luxurious 
viands that are in ordinary use with the men 
of the world. This self-indulgence, and world- 
ly conformity, and vain glory, although at vari- 



MAMMON. 171 

ance with the spirit and principles of the gos- 
pel, seem to find just as much favour in their 
eyes as with other people." 

" But had I more wealth to bestow, I would 
cheerfully give it." " Be not deceived." Cer- 
tain as you suppose that fact to be, your con- 
duct at present proves that it is the greatest of 
all uncertainties ; or rather, the certainty is all 
on the side of your continued covetousness. 
Riches were never yet known to cure a selfish 
extravagance, or to remedy the love of riches. 
As well might a vintage be expected to allay 
the thirst of a fever produced by wine. " He 
that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with 
silver ; nor he that loveth abundance with in- 
crease." 

Nee Crcesi fortuna unquam, nee Persica Eegna 
Sufficient animo 

The cure you need consists, not in the increase 
of your wealth, but in the reduction of your de- 
sires, and the conscientious management of 
your present income, as a faithful servant of 
Jesus Christ. Till this be effected, the aug- 
mentation of your property a thousand fold 
would not increase your benevolence, and when 
it is effected, the reduction of your property to 
two mites would not be able to rob you of the 
pure satisfaction of casting them into his 
treasury. 

Agur declined the abundance to which you 
aspire as a perilous condition ; and the indivi- 
dual who professes to desire opulence only for 



172 MAMMON. 

the sake of having more to bestow, and who 
makes that desire an excuse for giving nothing 
at present, gives ground to fear that his desire 
is only a pretext for indulging covetousness 
under the mask of religion. But you are not 
to wait till you have reached what you deem 
the best possible state for the exercise of bene- 
volence. The charity required at your hands 
at present, is only such as your limited re- 
sources will allow ; three mites are not expect- 
ed from him who has only two. And the 
more nearly your circumstances approach to a 
state of poverty, the greater the opportunity you 
possess for evincing the noble generosity and 
force of the Christian principle. It was not the 
splendid donations of the rich which drew forth 
the praises of the Son of God, but the more 
than royal munificence of that indigent widow, 
who gave " all that she had, even all her 
living." The darker the midnight sky, the 
more bright and glorious do the stars appear, 
and the more loudly do the heavens declare 
the glory of God. And, when the apostle 
would excite our admiration by the wonders of 
the Christian church, he tells us of " the churches 
of Macedonia, how that, in a great trial of af- 
fliction, the abundance of their joy, and their 
deep poverty, abounded unto the riches of their 
liberality." 

Or, perhaps, you belong to those who triumph 
in their own mind over every charge of cupidi- 
ty, by remembering that they have made ar- 
rangements to be charitable at death. A life of 



MAMMON. 173 

benevolence, ending in a munificent bequest, is 
like a glorious sunset to a summer's day ; but 
no posthumous charity can justify a life of ava- 
rice, or redeem it from infamy. To defer reli- 
gion till your last hour is guilt of the deepest 
die ; can it be innocent, then, to defer the 
practice of one of its most important relative 
duties till the same crisis arrives ? Were you 
to direct that a splendid asylum should arise 
over your dust, it would still be the monument 
of a covetous man ; and on its front might be 
written, as an appropriate inscription, " The tri- 
umph of death over avarice." For he who 
withholds his hand from deeds of benevolence 
till his last hour, surrenders his property to 
death, rather than devotes it to God. 

Besides, you are acting in direct opposition 
to the settled arrangements of Providence ; and 
to the most distinct intimations of the divine 
will. Your charity, as it is to be future, is made 
to depend on the most contingent circumstances. 
" I had got, in all my life," saith Baxter, " the 
just sum of a thousand pounds. Having no 
child I devoted it to charity. Before my pur- 
pose was accomplished the king caused his ex- 
chequer to be shut, and it was lost : which I 
mention to counsel any man that would do 
good, to do it speedily and with all his might." 
But, by making your charity to consist only in 
testamentary bequests, you are calculating on 
the certainty and stability of that which has 
become the very emblem of change and un- 
certainty. 



174 MAMMON. 

What you are proposing to defer till the peri- 
od of your natural death, the Christian, if he 
acts in harmony with his profession, feels him- 
self bound to do when he dies unto sin ; then 
he devotes himself and his property to God ; 
and with this immense advantage over you, 
that he will be his own executor ; that he will 
enjoy the godlike satisfaction of doing himself, 
for God, what you will leave to be done by 
others. You profess to regard yourself only as 
the steward of your property, and God as its 
supreme proprietor ; but, instead of employing 
it for his glory and rendering to him a periodical 
account of your stewardship, your covetousness 
makes it necessary that death should deprive 
you of your office, in order that the property 
you hold may not lie useless for ever. Your 
Lord admonishes you to make to yourself 
friends of the mammon of unrighteousness that, 
when you fail, they may receive you into ever- 
lasting habitations ; but, however welcome the 
arrival, and cheering the reception, of the bene- 
volent Christian in heaven, it is evident that 
no such a greeting can be there awaiting you : 
the only signs of joy your spirit will meet with 
will be occasioned by the liberation of your 
property by the hand of death, and, as such, 
they will wear the aspect of upbraiding and 
reproach. And when your Lord shall come to 
receive his own, with usury, instead of being 
able to refer to the multiplication of the talents 
with which he intrusted you, that multiplica- 
tion will have yet to commence, for your talents 



MAMMON. 175 

will only just then have emerged into the light ; 
you will have drawn on yourself the doom of 
the unprofitable servant. You are reversing 
that divine arrangement which would have 
caused your death to be deprecated as a loss, 
and you are voluntarily classing yourself with 
the refuse of society whose death is regarded 
as a gain : those who might have prayed for your 
continuance on earth, as a benefit to the church, 
are, for that very reason, tempted rather to 
desire your departure. Were your conduct to 
be generally adopted, what loss would the cause 
of Christ sustain by the death of half the Chris 
tian world 1 so completely is that conduct at 
variance with the divine arrangements, that 
such a bereavement, which we cannot con- 
template now without horror, would, in such a 
case, become indispensable to the continuance 
of his cause upon earth. 

But another question remains : having shown 
that dying charity is a miserable substitute for 
living benevolence, it is now important to in- 
quire what the amount of your charitable be- 
quests maybe.* We are aware that this ques- 
tion of proportion is one entirely between you 
and God ; and one which must be regulated by 
circumstances of which you are to be supposed 
the best judge. In the great majority of in- 

* The writer would take the liberty of recommending an 
excellent little work, called " Testamentary Counsels," 
published by Ward & Co. ; containing much on the sub- 
ject of charitable bequests, that is entitled to the serious 
attention of the Christian reader. 



176 MAMMON. 

stances, however, the portion of a testator's 
property, which ought to be set apart for bene- 
volent purposes is more clear to any disinter- 
ested, consistent Christian, than it is to the 
testator himself. 

Have you not reason to suspect that such is 
the fact in relation to yourself? Does not 
your present parsimony toward the objects of 
Christian benevolence justify the fear that the 
amount, which you have devised for such pur- 
poses, is most disproportionately small ? And 
yet, small as it is, it is your will. In dis- 
charging your testamentary duties, you naturally 
remember those persons and objects which hold 
the dearest place in your affections : — your 
supreme friend is Christ, and yet, that he 
should be put off with that insulting pittance is 
your will. You make your testamentary 
arrangements in the prospect of leaving what 
you properly designate a world of misery; 
much more of your property might be left to 
the alleviation of that misery, but that it should 
not be so appropriated is your will. You 
make those arrangements in the prospect of 
being received into perfect, blessedness : you 
entertain the hope that, while survivors are 
inspecting, for the first time, the distribution 
which you have made of your property, your 
emancipated spirit will be enjoying the happi- 
ness of the just made perfect — but that next to 
none of that happiness shall arise from the 
right employment of that property is your will. 

This robbery of the Christian cause, remem- 



MAMMON. 177 

ber, is your will ; — not a mere passing thought, 
not a precipitate, unconsidered act ; but an act 
which you formally preface with saying, that 
you perform it " being in sound mind," — in a 
word, it is the deliberate act of that sovereign 
part of your nature, your will. After having 
defrauded the cause of Christ of your property 
during life, you take the most effective measures 
to perpetuate the fraud after death ; and you do 
this with the full consent of all the powers of 
your mind, you impress it with the sovereign 
seal of your will. Yes, this is your will, 
which you are content to have for a dying pil- 
low, and on which you propose to rest your 
dying head ! Your will — and therefore a part 
of your preparation for death ! Your will — 
avowedly prepared, (monstrous inconsistency !) 
that the subject of your property may not dis- 
turb you in death ! that you may be able to 
think of it with peace ! Your will — made, part- 
ly, as a preparation for the awful moment when 
it shall be said to you, " Give an account of 
thy stewardship ;" made on the way to that 
judgment seat, where one of the first inquiries 
will relate to the use which you have made of 
your various talents ! Christian professor, be 
entreated. What your death-bed would have 
been had your attention never been called to 
this subject, it is not for man to surmise ; but 
should you allow your will to remain unaltered 
now that your conscience has been admonished, 
do not. wonder if you find your dying pillow to 
be filled with thorns. Retrieve, at once, your 
12 



178 MAMMON. 

guilty error, by augmenting your bequests to 
the cause of mercy : or, better still, become 
your own executor, and enjoy at^nce the luxu- 
ry of doing good ; or, last of all, do both — if 
the nature of your property permit, do both. 

It is impossible to look at the existing state 
of the finance of the Redeemer's empire, with- 
out perceiving that the entire system of Christian 
charity requires revision. Here and there an 
individual is to be found, who appears to be 
economizing his resources and employing them 
for God : but the very admiration in which such 
a one is held in his circle, implies, that he 
stands there alone. The light of a Reynolds, 
a Thornton, a Broadley Wilson, an unostenta- 
tious L , shines so conspicuously on ac- 
count of the surrounding darkness. In every 
section of the Christian church, a spirit of self- 
denying benevolence is the exception, and a 
spirit of worldly self-indulgence, which leaves 
little for God, is the rule. Nor can a thoughtful 
Christian reflect on the growing necessities of 
the kingdom of Christ, and the imploring atti- 
tude of the heathen world, and then remember 
how insignificant a proportion of the vast pecu- 
niary resources of the Christian church is at 
present appropriated to the demands of that 
kingdom and the salvation of that world, to say 
nothing of the difficulty with w r hich even that little 
is obtained, without feeling that among the 
revolutions which must precede the universal 
reign of Christ, one must be, a revolution in the 
economy of Christian benevolence. 



MAMMON. 179 

It is a subject deserving the most serious 
consideration of the Christian church, — how 
much its comparative want of success in at- 
tempting to enlarge the empire of Christ is to 
be ascribed to its prevailing covetonsness. 
How incalculably greater the success of the 
Christian enterprise might have been, had we 
only acted up to our conviction of Christian 
liberality ! What could have stood before a 
spirit which evinced a readiness to give up all 
for Christ ? The world would have beheld, in 
such conduct, an argument for the reality and 
power of the gospel which it could not misun- 
derstand, could not gainsay. " God, even our 
own God, would have blessed us" — would have 
gloried to own such a people, and to have dis- 
tinguished us with his blessing before the eyes 
of the world — " God would have blessed us ;" 
and, as a consequence, " all the ends of the 
earth would have feared him." 

What would have been the history of the pri- 
mitive Christians, had they been cursed with 
the love of money as the Christians of the 
present day are 1 Taking into the account 
their deep poverty, and the absence of all the 
present facilities for prosecuting their aggressive 
designs, a very small circle would have bound- 
ed the extent of their labours, and a single page 
have sufficed for the history of their exploits. 
But feeling the momentous nature of the object in 
which they were embarked, that the salvation 
or perdition of the world depended instrument- 
ally on their conduct, they laid aside every 



180 MAMMON. 

weight, cast their all into the treasury of bene- 
volence, and held themselves free and ready to 
do their Lord's behests, — and he caused them 
to triumph in every place. 

We are professedly treading in their steps. 
We have received from them the standard of 
the cross, and are carrying it forward against 
the common foe. But, though avowedly war- 
ring with the world, have we not taken a wedge 
of gold, and hidden it in the camp ? If the 
presence of one Achan was sufficient to ac- 
count for the discomfiture of Israel, can we be 
surprised at the limited nature of our success, 
when every tribe of our Christian Israel has its 
Achan, and almost every tent its " accursed 
thing ?" Has not the cupidity of the Christians 
made the very profession of disinterested bene- 
volence to be laughed at by the world, and to 
be suspected even among themselves ? Have 
not deeds of self-sacrificing liberality, such as 
would have been looked on in the primitive 
church as matters of course, become so rare 
among Christians, that the man w 7 ho should 
perform them now, if he did not actually endan- 
ger his reputation, would at least incur the sus- 
picions of a large proportion of his fellow-pro- 
fessors ? The spirit of primitive liberality has 
so far departed from the church, that they would 
eye him with an astonishment which would 
prove that, if sympathy be necessary to com- 
prehend his conduct, they must remain in guilty 
ignorance. Is there not reason to conclude, 
that many a noble offering has been lost to the 



MAMMON. 181 

cause of "Christ, and many an incipient impulse 
of benevolence repressed, through a dread of 
that singularity which it might seem to affect 
as viewed by a selfish eye ? One great reason, 
it has been said, why men practise generosity 
so little, is, because there are so few generous 
persons to stimulate others by their example ; 
and because, it might have been added, they 
dreaded the charge of singularity, or ostenta- 
tion, to' which their liberality would have ex- 
posed j;hem. And, if many a human gift has 
been lost to the cause of Christ, owing to this 
repulsive spirit of cupidity, can we wonder if 
it has deprived the church of many a divine 
blessing which would otherwise have been 
showered on it ? The church has indulged in 
a selfish and contracted spirit, until it has gone 
far to disqualify itself for receiving great things 
either from God or man. 

And, in the same way, the church has inca- 
pacitated itself for achieving great things. There 
is no necessity for supposing an arbitrary with- 
holdment of the divine blessing, or the exist- 
ence of a judicial sentence, in order to account 
for its limited usefulness. Indeed, the measure 
of success which has crowned its endeavours 
would discountenance such an idea ; for that 
success has been granted to the full amount of its 
labours. It is the limitation of its labours and 
sacrifices alone, which has restricted its useful- 
ness ; and the reason of that restriction is to be 
found in its selfishness. What Bacon says of 
the influence of riches on virtue, may be adapt- 



182 MAMMON. 

ed and applied, in the most extensive sense, to 
their influence on the spirit of the Christian 
enterprise. They have proved the baggage, 
the impedimenta, of the Christian army ; for, as 
the baggage is to an army, so is wealth to the 
Christian enterprise ; it hindereth the march, 
and the care of it sometimes loseth or disturbed 
the victory. 

And the variety of ways in which it operates 
to this effect might supply us with an answer 
to those who may fancy that we are ascribing 
too much to the influence of wealth, and over- 
looking other important considerations. It is 
precisely owing to its influence on those other 
important things — especially, on the spirit of 
prayer, and on Christian self-dedication — that 
the love of the world acquires its potency of 
evil. Prayer is its appointed antidote : but it 
keeps the Christian from the closet, or else di- 
vides his heart with God while there. And as 
to his high office of appearing before God as a 
suppliant for the world, an earnest intercessor 
for his race, it barely allows him time to pray 
for himself. A clear and steady view of the 
cross would heal the malady, would cause his 
heart to swell with the lofty emotion that he 
is not his own, and impel him to lay himself 
out for that blessed Saviour whose property he 
is ; but the malady itself prevents him from be- 
holding the remedy. As if an Israelite had 
been so wounded as to be unable to see the 
brazen serpent erected for his cure, the spirit 
of selfishness has partially blinded the Chris- 



MAMMON. 18S 

tian to the sight of the cross. It only allows 
him to see it as in a mist ; and so completely 
does it engross his time, and drive him hither 
and thither in its service, that he seldom looks 
at the cross sufficiently long either to see its 
glory or to feel its power. And might we not 
appeal to a large number of Christian pro- 
fessors, whether, during those rare moments 
when they have caught a glimpse of that self- 
dedication to Christ which he claims at their 
hands, a perception, at the same time, of the 
sacrifices and self-denial to which that conse- 
cration of themselves would necessarily lead 
has not been sufficient to make that sight of his 
claims unwelcome, and induced them to turn 
their attention in another direction ! Thus the 
spirit we are deprecating proves itself to be still 
entitled to the bad pre-eminence assigned to it 
by the apostle — it is " the root of all evil." Like 
the drunkenness, which the demon is said to 
have chosen for his victim, because he knew it 
would lead to other sins, it is a kind of moral 
intoxication which never exists alone ; it not 
only robs the cause of Christ of the liberality of 
his followers, but also of their prayers and cor- 
dial dedication. 

But, at the same time that this spirit disquali- 
fies his people for extensive usefulness, it places 
the Great Head of the church himself under a 
moral restraint from employing and blessing 
them. A covetous community ! — how can he 
consistently employ such to convert the world ; 
especially, too, as that conversion includes a 



184 MAMMON. 

turning from covetousness ! Not, indeed, that 
his cause is necessarily dependant for success 
on our liberality : and, perhaps, when his peo- 
ple shall be so far constrained by his love as 
to place their property at his disposal, he may 
most convincingly show them that he has never 
been dependant on it, by completing his king- 
dom without it. But while he chooses to work 
by means, those means must be in harmony 
with his own character — and what is that but 
the very antithesis of selfishness, infinite bene- 
volence? He regulates those means by laws: 
and one of those laws is, that " from him that 
hath not shall be taken away even that which he 
hath f that he not only will not employ the 
covetous, but will deprive him of that which he 
guiltily withholds from his service. 

We pray for the coming of the kingdom of 
Christ ; and wonder, at times, that our heartless, 
disunited, inconsistent prayers are not more suc- 
cessful. But what do we expect? Let it be 
supposed that a convocation ofall the Christians 
upon earth should be held, to implore the con- 
version of the world. How justly might an 
ancient prophet be sent from God to rebuke 
them, and say, " The means for the conversion 
of the world are already in your hands. Had 
you been dependant on human charity for sup- 
port, you might have then expected to see your 
Almighty Lord erect his kingdom by miracle ; 
or you might have warrantably come to his 
throne to implore the means necessary for car- 
rying it on by your own instrumentality. But 



MAMMON. 185 

these means are actually in your hands. You 
are asking him to do that, the very means for do- 
ing which are at this moment locked up in your 
coffers, or wasted in costly self-gratification. 
For what purpose has he placed so much wealth 
in your hands ? Surely not to consume it in 
self-indulgence. * Is it time for you, O ye, to 
dwell in your ceiled houses, and this house to 
lie waste ? Now r , therefore, thus saith the 
Lord, consider your ways.' Look abroad over 
your assembled myriads ; calculate the im- 
mense resources of wealth placed at your dis- 
posal ; imagine that you were to be seized with 
a noble generosity, like that which, at different 
times, descended on the ancient people of God, 
and then say, what enterprise would be too vast 
for your means ? ' Ye are cursed with a 
curse ; for ye have robbed me, even this whole 
nation. Bring ye all the tithes into the store- 
house, that there may be meat in my house, 
and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of 
hosts, if I Will not open the windows of heaven, 
and pour you out a blessing, that there shall 
not be room enough to receive it.' Make 
this consecration of your substance to the 
cause of Christ ; and then come and ask for the' 
conversion of the world. But, till then, come 
rather to humble yourselves before him for em- 
bezzling the property with which he has in- 
trusted you for his cause, and expending it on 
yourselves. Come and ask him to destroy * the 
lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and 
the pride of life ;' and to pour upon his church 



186 MAMMON. 

a spirit of Christian liberality. Till then, ask 
only, and, in common consistency, expect only, 
that he will bless you to the amount of your 
sacrifices for his cause. What he may choose to 
do more, by an exercise of his sovereignty, is 
not for you to surmise : but for you to ask him 
to do more, is to ask him to proclaim himself to 
the world the patron of your cupidity." 

And while we were listening to this righteous 
rebuke, should we not feel that we were standing 
before the Lord in our iniquity 1 would not con- 
fusion cover us ? 

It is recorded to the high honour of certain 
ancient believers, that " God was not ashamed 
to be called their God." And the reason as- 
signed is, that, instead of coveting earthly posses- 
sions, or seeking their happiness in worldly ob- 
jects, they placed all they held in the hands of 
God, lived only for his glory, and " declared 
plainly that they sought a better country, that 
is, a heavenly." Of such a people God was not 
ashamed ; they did not disgrace him in the 
eyes of the world ; their conduct proclaimed 
their celestial descent ; he gloried in them ; 
he could point the attention of the world to 
them with divine complacency ; he could intrust 
his character in their hands ; he could leave the 
world to infer what he was, from what they were ; 
he was content to be judged of from the conduct of 
his people. Could he leave his character to be 
inferred from the conduct of his people now? His 
spirituality — could the world infer that from any 
remarkable abstraction from earth apparent in 



MAMMON. 187 

their conduct ? or is there any thing in the 
manner and extent of their liberality which 
would remind the world of his vast unbounded 
benevolence ? . They know the grace of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, for 
their sakes he became poor, that they through his 
poverty might be rich ; — but from what part of 
their conduct would the world ever learn this 
melting truth ? No, in these respects, he is 
ashamed to be called their God. Their self- 
indulgence misrepresents his self-sacrifice. 
Their covetousness is a shame to his boundless 
beneficence. His character is falsified by them 
in the eyes of the world. Nor could he honour 
them in any distinguished manner before the 
world without endorsing and confirming that 
falsification of his character. He is yearning 
for the happiness of the perishing world ; but 
such is his divine plan, that he has only the in- 
strumentality of his church to work by, and that 
is so steeped in the spirit of selfishness, that 
his grace is held under restraint. 

And even the limited degree in which their 
selfishness has allowed him to bless their 
agency in his cause, begins to be found incon- 
venient to that selfishness. For what is the 
most frequent complaint of those who are de- 
puted to manage that agency I Not that God 
is withholding his blessing from their proceed- 
ings ; but that, owing to that blessing, a demand 
has been created for the gospel which they are 
unable to supply ; a harvest has been* raised 
which they are unable to reap ; a tract of terri- 



188 MAMMON. 

tory so extensive has been conquered, that, un- 
less the resources placed at their command are 
greatly augmented, they will not be able to 
subdue and retain it. 

There was a time when we thought there 
was nothing to dread but a want of success ; 
nothing to be prayed for but success. But we 
did not duly consider the peculiar kind of suc- 
cess which our selfishness required ; a cheap 
and unexpensive success which should support 
itself, and which should leave our spirit of cu- 
pidity untaxed and undisturbed. We have now, 
however, begun to discover that success itself, 
of a certain description, may be attended with 
the most serious inconveniences — inconve- 
niences, that is, to selfish Christians ; that we 
need, in connection with success, a flivine pre- 
paration to receive, and improve, and enjoy it. 
Yes, we feel persuaded, that we must have, and 
shall have, a change in the church, before we 
shall witness the renovation of the world ; that 
the predictions of Scripture, concerning the 
church, must be fulfilled, before those concern- 
ing the world shall be accomplished ; that the 
temperature of Christian piety has yet to be 
raised many degrees ; that plans will be exe- 
cuted for the diffusion of the gospel, which 
have not yet been imagined ; that efforts and 
sacrifices will yet be made on so gigantic a 
scale, as to throw the puny doings of the present 
day completely into the shade. 



MAMMON". 



PART nr. 



189 



CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED AND 
ENFORCED. 



SECTION I. 
CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 

To assert that the cause of Christian liberali- 
ty exhibits no signs of improvement would only 
evince insensibility to obvious facts, and ingrati- 
tude to the Great Head of the church. Even 
the feeling which has called for " an essay, 
bearing upon selfishness as it leads us to live to 
ourselves, and not unto God and our fellow- 
men," is to be viewed as an indication that 
many a Christian more than ever deplores that 
selfishness. While the ready assent which is 
generally accorded to every faithful appeal as 
to the necessity of increased liberality to the 
cause of God ; the growing conviction of the 
church, that, compared with what will be done, 
we are at present doing nothing ; the approba- 
tion with which every new expedient for aug- 
menting the funds of benevolence is hailed ; 
the streams which appear in almost every new 
channel of mercy as soon as it is opened ; and 
the increase of funds which our great benevo- 
ent institutions have almost annually to an- 



190 MAMMON, 

nounce, — all concur to show, that the church 
is not only dissatisfied with its past parsimony, 
but is gradually awaking to the claims of 
Christian liberality. 

But, pleasing as these circumstances are, it 
must be remembered that they are little more 
than indications of improvement. All the great 
defects in the charity of the Christian church 
remain with very slight modifications. It is still 
adapted to a former state of comparative inactivity, 
rather than to the present period of Christian 
enterprise. It waits for impulses and appeals. 
It wants calculation, proportion, and self-denial. 
It does not keep pace with the growing de- 
mands of the kingdom of Christ. It wants 
principle and plan. The great current of 
Christian property is as yet undiverted from its 
worldly channel. The scanty rills of charity 
which at present water the garden of the Lord, 
and the ingenuity and effort employed to bring 
them there, compared with the almost undi- 
minished tide of selfish expenditure which still 
holds on its original course, remind one of the 
slender rivulets which the inhabitants of the 
east raise from a river by mechanical force to 
irrigate their thirsty gardens ; the mighty cur- 
rent, meanwhile, without exhibiting any sensi- 
ble diminution of its waters, sweeping on in its 
ample and ancient bed to the ocean. 

By unwearied diligence the art of acquiring 
money has been well-nigh brought to perfection. 
Nor can we think of the thousand ways in 
which it is squandered and dissipated by artifi- 



MAMMON. 191 

cial wants and worldly compliances, without 
deploring that the art of wasting it by the most 
expeditious methods, should exhibit, as it does, 
the finish and completeness of a system. The 
art of using it, so as to make it produce the 
greatest measure of happiness, still remains to 
be practised. This, indeed, the gospel alone 
can teach, and has taught from the beginning. 
In the early age of the Christian church, the 
heavenly art of embalming property, and making 
it immortal, was not only known, but prac- 
tised ; but, like the process of another embalm- 
ing, it has now, for ages, been practically 
lost. Not that its principles have been un- 
known ; these have always presented them- 
selves on the page of truth, in lines of living 
light. But, though benevolence has never been 
unknown as a theory, the perverting influence 
of a worldly spirit has been rendering it more 
and more impracticable as an art. So that now 
when the obvious application of its principles is 
pointed out, and the necessity for carrying those 
principles into practice is daily becoming more 
urgent, we begin to be aware of the vast dis- 
tance to which the church has been drifted 
from the course of its duty by the current of 
the world, and how difficult it will be to effect a 
return. 

As an important preliminary to such a return, 
it should be our first concern to repair to the 
living oracles of God, and there, in an hum- 
ble devotional spirit, to inquire his will on the 
subject. This, of itself, would be gaining an 



192 MAMMON. 

important step. It would be proclaiming a 
wide secession from the world ; for, while the 
ungodly act and feel as if their property were 
absolutely and irresponsibly their own, we 
should be thus acknowledging that we hold our 
property from God, and that we feel ourselves 
bound to consult his will as to the manner of 
using it. The unreflecting Christian who is 
content with appearances and professions no 
doubt imagines that this distinction between the 
church and the world exists already. Because 
he has heard, until the sound has become 
familiar, that all we have and are belongs to 
God ; and has never heard the proposition con- 
tradicted, he fancies that, on this point, all is 
well. But it is precisely because Christians 
generally have practically repealed this principle, 
and trampled it under foot, that the spirit of 
benevolence has almost been lost from the 
church, While the practical recognition of 
this single principle, simple as it is, familiar and 
admitted as it is in words, would of itself pro- 
duce an unimagined change in favour of evan- 
gelical charity. Geologists tell us that were the 
poles of the earth to be shifted but a few degrees, 
the ocean would rush toward the new equator, 
the most solid parts of the globe give way, and 
the earth assume an aspect entirely new. The 
solitary principle, that we hold our property as 
subordinate agents for God, were it only felt, 
embraced, allowed to have unobstructed opera- 
tion in our practice, would, of itself, be sufficient 
to break up the present system of selfishness, 



MAMMON. 193 

and to give an entirely new aspect to the cause of 
benevolence. 

Let the Christian reader, then, seek to have 
this principle wrought into his mind as an ever- 
present conviction. Let the recollection of his 
property, and the idea of God as its supreme 
Owner, stand together in his mind in close and 
constant union. Let him remember that the 
supreme Proprietorship of his property is in the 
hands of God as really as the salvation of his 
soul is ; and that the will of God is law here, 
as much as in the more spiritual domain of faith. 
What would his conduct be, had he been left 
the executor of that property by an earthly friend? 
Would he not have been frequently recurring to 
the will of the testator, that he might not mis- 
apply the least fraction ? His supreme Friend 
has given him the use of certain property, ac- 
companying the grant with a specification of his 
will concerning its application. Nothing but an 
humble, grateful, obedient heart is necessary in 
studying that will, in order to find that it de- 
scends to rules, limitations, and directions, of the 
most clear and minute description. And it is 
only by keeping these requirements constantly 
open before him, and returning to study them 
daily in that spirit, that the Christian can escape 
the danger of appropriating and misapplying 
that which belongs to his Lord and Master. 

In the scheme of evangelical charity, the prin- 

ciple which actuates the giver is of paramount 

importance. " He that giveth, let him do it with 

simplicity." The gospel rejects alike the tax 

13 



2 94 m ammo jr. 

which is reluctantly paid by fear, the bribe 
which is given to silence importunity, the 
sacrifice which is offered to a vain ostentation, 
and the price which is intended to purchase a 
place in the divine favour, or as a ground of 
justification before God. The only offering 
which it accepts is that which originates in a 
principle of love and obedience to Christ, and 
which hopes and asks for divine acceptance 
through him alone. It takes the Christian to 
the cross, and there it aims to touch all that is 
tender and generous in his nature, while it says, 
" Ye know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
that, though he was rich, for your sakes he be- 
came poor, that ye through his poverty might 
be rich." And having made its appeal at the 
cross, having provided and plied him with the 
grand motive of redeeming love, it will accept 
nothing which overlooks the constraining influ- 
ence of that principle. 

Familiarity with large sums of money may 
lead a^erson to make benefactions as munificent 
as the heart of charity could wish. Animal 
generosity may act the donor with all the 
promptitude and easy grace of Charity herself. 
But " though I bestow all my goods to feed the 
poor, . . . and have not charity, it profiteth me 
nothing." The absence of evangelical love is 
the want of incense which alone could impart 
to the sacrifice a sweet-smelling savour unto 
God. And while its absence would reduce the 
collected gifts of a nation to penury itself, its 
presence imparts to the widow's mite a value 



MAMMON. 195 

which God appreciates, and by which heaven 
is enriched. It turns " a cup of cold water" 
into a sacramental symbol ; for it is given " in 
remembrance of Christ." Suspended from the 
throne of heaven, it transmutes the least gift 
that may be hung on it into a jewel destined to 
augment the glory of him on whose head are 
" many crowns." 

That which constitutes the superiority of 
evangelical piety, as a self-propagating and dif- 
fusive system, to every form of false and hetero- 
dox religion is, that it has for its great actuating 
principle the love of Christ. This is " the seed 
in itself ;" the leaven which shall never cease 
to ferment till it has leavened the entire mass of 
humanity. Hence, every thing which would 
obtain acceptance with God must exhibit marks 
of the assimilating and sanctifying power of this 
principle. Nay, every thing which would find 
favour in the eyes of the Christian himself, even 
his own acts and offerings of charity, must bear 
evident relation to Christ, or receive the con- 
demnation of his own grateful heart. In the 
exercise of a holy jealousy for his blessed Lord, 
he is led to scrutinize his motives, to trace his 
benevolence to its source, to examine whether 
or not it took its rise at the cross ; and, if it 
did not, he finds cause for penitence and humi- 
liation before God. Thus, while false religion 
makes its almsdeeds a substitute for piety, the 
gospel heightens benevolence into one of the 
most spiritual and improving duties the Christian 
can perform. For, by imbuing his heart with 



196 MAMMON. 

the love of God," it enables him to taste the god- 
like enjoyment of doing good ; and, by teaching 
him to refer all his acts of benevolence to 
Christ, to perform them as expressions of grati- 
tude to him, to hope for their acceptance through 
him, and to pray that they may tend to his glory, 
it keeps him near to the cross, in an atmosphere 
of spiritual and elevated piety. And when once 
he has become native to that element, when the 
expansive, delightful, irresistible power of the 
Saviour's grace has become his ruling motive, 
he would feel an inferior principle to be little 
less than degradation and bondage. He accounts 
the costliest sacrifice he can offer as poor ; 
resents the limits which a cold and calculating 
selfishness would impose on his offerings as 
chains and fetters ; and if called to pour forth 
his blood as a libation on the altar of Christian 
sacrifice, he would feel that he had rendered an 
ample explanation of his conduct, by saying, 
with the apostle, " The love of Christ constrain- 
ethus." 

In order that our benevolence may become a 
valuable habit, it must be provided with regular 
resources. Nothing good or great can be effect- 
ed without plan. In their own worldly business, 
men perceive the importance of method ; and, if 
they would render their liberality efficient, they 
must adopt a system for that also. On this sub- 
ject the gospel itself prescribes, — " Upon the 
first day of the week, let every one of you lay 
by him in store as God hath prospered him, that 
there be no gatherings when I come." "By 



MAMMON. 



197 



which,' 9 saith Paley, "I understand St. Paul 
to recommend what is the very thing wanting 
with most men, the being charitable upon apian ; 
that is, upon a deliberate comparison of our 
fortunes with the reasonable expenses and ex- 
pectations of our families, to compute what we 
can spare, and to lay by so much for charitable 
purposes." 

To take, indeed, a weekly account how God 
hath prospered us is not in all cases possible ; 
but the spirit of the direction would be equally 
satisfied if, on taking the account at other stated 
times, we only lay by for God as he hath pros- 
pered us. Owing to the want of a plan like this, 
the cause of Christ is often an unwelcome and 
an unsuccessful applicant ; selfishness, which 
has always the advantage of being able to be the 
first claimant, squanders in superfluities what 
conscience would have devoted to God ; and 
many, it is to be feared, from not having where- 
with to answer the calls and impulses of charity 
as they arose in the heart, have at length lost 
the very disposition to do good. While the ad- 
vantages arising from the adoption of such an 
arrangement are numerous, we are under less 
temptation to withhold our charity ; our duty is 
made more convenient by rendering it thus in 
easy instalments y our love to Christ is more 
gratified by being able to present him in the 
end with a larger offering ; the hand of God is 
regularly recognised in our worldly affairs ; his 
presence is invited, so to speak, into the very 
heart of our prosperity, whence the world is 



198 MAMMON. 

most anxious to exclude him, invited to audit the 
accounts of our gains ; our offerings are present- 
ed with cheerfulness, because they come from a 
fund designed expressly to no other end than 
charity ; and the cause of benevolence, no 
longer a dependant on precarious charity, is 
welcomed and honoured as an authorized claim- 
ant, a divine creditor, while what we retain for 
our own use is divinely blessed by the dedica- 
tion of the rest to God. 

Nothing that is good or great, we repeat, can 
be effected without plan. Business, to be suc- 
cessful, must be conducted on system ; and why 
should not the book which records the occasional 
and the regular contributions of charity be kept 
and inspected as carefully as the ledger of trade? 
Covetousness plans for selfish purposes ; and 
why should not benevolence counter-plan, and 
organize its resources for objects of divine phil- 
anthropy ? Political economy plans for national 
purposes ; and why should there not be an ec- 
clesiastical economy to systematize the resources 
of that kingdom which is not of this world ? 
We desire not a revival of sumptuary laws to 
restrain extravagance in diet and dress, but a 
tax self-levied on all the luxuries and indul- 
gences of life. We ask not for an inquisitorial 
Roman census, but for a conscientious assess- 
ment of all the property of the Christian church, 
so scrupulously made and regularly repeated, 
that, like that ancient republic, we may have 
accurate returns from time to time of all the 
statistics of the Christian empire, and may 



MAMMON, 199 

know our resources for war with the kingdom of 
darkness. 

But what proportion of our income ought we 
to devote to charitable uses ? If Christian love 
be permitted to answer this question, and assign 
the amount, there is no reason to fear a too 
scanty allowance. On the other hand, if selfish- 
ness be suffered to decide, there is ground to 
fear that even an inspired reply, could such be 
obtained, would be heard only to be overruled. 
Besides which., the gospel of Christ, in harmony 
with its great design of establishing a reign of 
love, leaves its followers to assess themselves. 
It puts into their hands, indeed, a claim upon 
their property, but leaves the question how 
much f to be determined by themselves. In as- 
sisting them to fill up the blank with the proper 
assessment, the only step which it takes is to 
point them to the cross of Christ ; and, while 
their eye is fixed there in admiring love, to say, 
4< How much owest thou unto thy Lord ?" 
" Freely ye have received, freely give." 

It must be quite unnecessary to remind the 
Christian that a principle of justice to man must 
be laid as the basis of all our calculations on this 
subject. " For I the Lord love judgment, I hate 
robbery for burnt-offering." To present him with 
that which his own laws of justice would assign 
to another, is to overlook the claims of even or- 
dinary honesty, and to make him the patron of 
unrighteousness. But while the worldling looks 
on justice as the only claimant on his property, 
and concludes that when that is satisfied, he 



200 MAMMON. 

may warrantably sacrifice the whole remainder 
to himself, the Christian views it only as a pre- 
paration for sacrificing to God. 

It is observable that Abraham and Jacob, on 
particular occasions, voluntarily devoted to God 
— what afterward became a divine law for the 
Jewish nation — a tenth of their property. With- 
out implying that their example has any obliga- 
tion on us, we may venture to say that one tenth 
of our whole income is an approved proportion 
for charity, for those who, with so doing, are 
able to support themselves and families. For 
the more opulent, and especially for those who 
have no families, a larger proportion would be 
equally easy. For some, one-half would be too 
little ; while for others, a twentieth, or even a 
fiftieth, would require the nicest frugality and 
care. Indeed, of many among the poor it may be 
said, that if they give any thing they give their 
share, they cast in more than all their brethren. 

But in determining the proportion to be made 
sacred to God, the Christian would surely ra- 
ther exceed than fall short of the exact amount. 
With whom is he stipulating ? For whom is he 
preparing the offering ? Well may the recollec- 
tion put every covetous thought to instant flight ; 
tinging his cheek with shame at the bare possi- 
bility of ingratitude ; and impelling him to 
lay his all at the feet of Christ. Only let him 
think of the great love wherewith Christ hath 
loved him, only let him pass by the cross on his 
way to the altar of oblation, and his richest of- 
fering will appear totally unworthy of divine ac- 



MAMMON. 201 

ceptance. When Christ is the object to be ho- 
noured, the affection of the pardoned penitent 
cannot stop to calculate the value of its alabaster 
box of precious ointment — that is an act to 
which only a Judas can stoop — its chief and 
sole regret is that the unction has not a richer 
perfume, and a higher value. When a Zac- 
cheus iinds himself standing, a sinner saved by 
grace, in the presence of the Being who has 
saved him, he exclaims, " Behold, Lord, the 
half of my goods I give to the poor ; and if I 
have wronged any man by false accusation, I 
restore unto him fourfold." Covetousness, a mo- 
ment before, was enthroned in his heart ; but 
now it is beneath his feet. A moment ago, 
wealth was his idol ; but now its only value con- 
sists in furnishing him with an offering of love 
to Christ. What things were gain to him, those 
he counted loss for Christ. 

And as the great principle of love to Christ 
will not allow the more opulent to give scantily, 
so neither will it permit the poorest to come be- 
fore him empty. It was one of the divine enact- 
ments even of the legal dispensation — None 
shall come before me empty. But that which was 
matter of law with the Israelite, the Christian 
will sieze as a golden opportunity for evincing 
his love to Christ ; and will bring, though it be 
only a grain of incense for an offering, or a leaf 
for that wreath of praise and honour which the 
church delights to lay at the feet of Christ. 
Whatever Scripture example others may profess 
to copy, he will select the example of the bene- 



202 MAMMON. 

volent widow ; and while others content them- 
selves with only admiring it, he will often re- 
flect on its imitableness. Nor will the language 
of the apostle be ever heard by him but as an 
address to himself:—" Let him labour, working 
with his hands the thing which is good, that he 
may have to give to him that needeth." " These 
hands have ministered unto my necessities, and 
to them that were with me. I have showed 
you all things, how that so labouring ye ought 
to support the weak, and to remember the words 
of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more 
blessed to give than to receive." Agreeably 
with these sentiments, the man who, at one time, 
imagined that his poverty quite exempted him 
from the obligations of charity, and only ren- 
dered him an object of it, is no sooner made the 
partaker of grace, than he feels himself impelled 
to place some offering on the altar of Christian 
benevolence ; and, with the ready eye and hand 
of affection, he soon detects, for this end, some 
small superfluity which can be retrenched, or 
some leisure time which can be profitably em- 
ployed. And when his mite-like offering, the 
fruit of hard self-denial, or of the sweat of his 
brow, is presented, nothing could inflict on his 
grateful heart a deeper wound than to see that 
offering rejected on the ground of its compara- 
tive insignificance, or of his supposed inability 
to give it. It is the offerings of a sinner's gra- 
titude to a Saviour's love, and heaven rejoices 
over the oblation. 

A well-digested scheme of charity will be 



MAMMON. 203 

considerate in the selection of its objects. The 
benevolence which has not prudence for its 
almoner, may create the evils which it meant to 
destroy. 

If there be any danger in this respect, in the 
present day, it does not lie so much in the 
choice of wrong objects, as in the neglect of 
some right ones. The principles of benevolent 
institutions are now so well understood ; every 
new candidate for patronage is so open to in- 
spection ; and the streams of charity so steadily 
watched from their rise to the point of their des- 
tination, that there is little more than the bare 
possibility of any benevolent institution existing 
long in a state of abuse, or so as to generate 
more evil than good. Whatever danger now 
exists arises from the rapid multiplication of 
new objects, and the consequent liability of the 
old ones to desertion ; and still more, perhaps, 
from the liability of those minor objects which 
relate exclusively to the bodily welfare of man, 
being eclipsed by the surpassing grandeur and 
magnitude of such as relate to the infinite and 
the eternal. 

If, fifty years ago, a patron of the benevolent 
institutions of that day could have been foretold 
of the number, the magnitude, and the revenues 
of the great evangelical societies which at pre- 
sent adorn our land, he might surely have been 
excused for fearing that the objects* of his re- 
gard would in consequence ae displaced and 
forgotten. But th^ svent has shown that his 
fears would ha, 6 been unfounded. Experience 



204 MAMMON. 

demonstrates that the heart which responds to 
the cries of a world perishing through lack of 
knowledge, is the heart which most readily 
thrills at the cry of bodily want ; that those who 
care most for the souls of the heathen, are 
among the most active agents of patriotic and 
local charities ; that genuine Christian charity, 
while it leaves no object unattempted on account 
of its vastness, overlooks none on account of its 
minuteness. Copying, in this respect, the ex- 
ample of Him who in his way to the cross to 
save a world, often stood still to give health to the 
sick, and to wipe away the tears of the mourner ; 
sowing, at each step, the seeds of those various 
institutions of mercy which are still springing 
up in his church ; and who, while suspended 
on the cross in the crisis of human redemption, 
still thought of his filial relation, and tenderly 
provided for a mother's comfort. 

But the limited resources of the Christian phi- 
lanthropist, compared with the number and di- 
versity of the objects soliciting his aid, render 
selection indispensably necessary. On the one 
hand, he must not confine his regards to objects 
purely religious, though of the loftiest and most 
comprehensive order, to the neglect of that cha- 
rity which draws out its soul to the hungry, and 
which visits the fatherless and widow in their 
affliction ; and, on the other, he must not limit 
his attentions to the wants of the life that now 
is, and remain an uninterested spectator of the 
efforts which are made around him to save a 
world from perdition. The two classes of ob~ 



MAMMON. 205 

jects should be combined in his regards. By 
descending to the one class, he will be keeping 
his benevolent feelings in a healthy, active, vi- 
gorous state ; and by ascending to the other, he 
will be giving them scope and expansion, dif- 
fusing and multiplying them over the whole field 
of mercy. By a wise distribution of his means 
he may connect himself with all the objects of 
beneficence, from the casual relief of the men- 
dicant, to the combined, systematic, and mighty 
project of the Christian church to make the Bi- 
ble the book of the world. And as he marks 
the graduated scale of Christian charities which 
stands between these two extremes, he will con- 
scientiously consider which are the charities 
that call for his especial aid, and the proportion 
of support which each demands. 

But who does not feel that the era of effective 
Christian benevolence has yet to commence 1 
Let him sketch the most simple scheme of be- 
nevolence which the gospel can approve, and 
he will perceive at every step that he is writing 
the condemnation of the church. Compared 
with the time, indeed, when next to nothing was 
contributed to the cause of Christ, we may now 
be said to give much ; but compared with what 
ought to be, and with what we are persuaded 
will be consecrated to. God, we are still contri- 
buting next to nothing. The sentiment of the 
church on the subject of property is as yet very 
little elevated above that of the world ; deep- 
rooted worldly notions have yet to be eradicated ; 
and the right use of wealth in its relation to the 



206 MAMMON. 

cause of Christ to be taught and enforced as an 
essential branch of Christian practice. The 
great lesson taught by our Lord's voluntary se- 
lection of a state of poverty is yet to be fully 
understood ; the evident application of many 
plain passages of Scripture to be made ; doc- 
trines startling to selfishness to become familiar 
and welcome ; sentiments already familiar to be 
enlarged and practically applied ; the woxd be- 
7ievole?ice itself to be differently understood ; the 
demon o^ covetousness to be cast out of the 
church ; and the whole economy of benevolence 
to be revised. 

And who. with the word of God in his hand, 
but must feel that an era of enlarged Christian 
liberality is hastening on • Prophecy is full of 
it. As often almost as she opens her lips on 
the subject of Messiah's reign, the consecration 
of the world's wealth forms part of her song. 
" To him shall be given of the gold of Sheba." 
" The merchandize of Tyre shall be holiness to 
the Lord ; it shall not be treasured nor laid up." 
" Surely the isles shall wait for me, and the 
ships of Tarshish first, to bring thy sons from 
far, their silver and their gold with them, unto 
the name of the Lord thy God.*' " Kings 
shall bring presents unto him ;" " they shall 
bring gold and incense ;" and into his kingdom 
" they shall bring the glory and honour of the na- 
tions." Wealth, which for so many ages had 
robbed him of his glory, and which in so many 
idolatrous forms had been erected in his stead, 
shall be brought to his altar, and employed as 



MAMMON, 207 

the fuel of a sacrifice in which the heart shall 
ascend as incense before him. It will then be 
felt that the highest use to which wealth can be 
applied is to employ it for God ; that this is the 
only way to dignify that which is intrinsically 
mean ; to turn that which is perishing into un- 
fading crowns and imperishable wealth. As if 
the image and superscription of Christ instead 
of Cesar— as if the hallowed impress of the 
cross itself were visible on all the currency of 
earth, his people shall look on all their wealth 
as the property of Christ, and be constantly me- 
ditating the means of employing it most advan- 
tageously for his glory. In wedding his church, 
it shall then be felt that he wedded her wealth 
also ; and, bringing it forth, and placing it at his 
feet as a part of her poor unworthy dowry, she 
shall wish that for his sake it had been ten thou- 
sand times ten thousand more. 

Now, the only distinction is between him that 
gives a little and him that gives nothing ; then, 
a new classification will have obtained. There 
will be no one in the church who gives nothing ; 
his place will be occupied by him who only 
gives little — by which will be meant him who, 
whatever the amount of his gift may be, gives 
only from his superfluity ; while the honourable 
title of the benevolent will be reserved for such 
only as deny themselves in order that they may 
give the more. Self-denial, if not synonymous 
with benevolence, will then be considered an 
essential part of it. He who gives nothing will 
be looked on as an avowed enemy to the cause 



208 MAMMON. 

of Christ ; he who only gives a little from his 
superfluity will be considered covetous ; and he 
only who adds to his superfluity the precious 
savings of self-denial besides, will be honoured 
as truly charitable. 

The Christian will then look on himself in 
the light of a channel between God and his fel- 
low-creatures — a channel prepared expressly 
for receiving and conveying the overflowings of 
the Fountain of goodness to those around him ; 
and accordingly he will be " ready to distribute, 
willing to communicate." Not content with the 
slender supplies of his own property, he will 
seek to excite the liberality of others ; to be- 
come their almoner ; to swell the streams of his 
own charity by the contributions of others'. And 
thus he will at once be the means of keeping 
the benevolence of his brethren in activity, of 
bringing greater glory to God, and of doing 
greater good to the world. 

The Christian parent will not then be con- 
tent with teaching his children the art of get- 
ting money most easily and respectably, or of 
spending it most advantageously to themselves ; 
he will train them to habits of benevolence ; im- 
press them early with " the value of money" 
for the cause of Christ ; show them that in its 
subserviency to that cause consists its chief 
value ; that they should labour with their hands 
rather than be destitute of the means of giving. 
He will make it an indispensable object of their 
education to render them proficients in the art of 
employing their substance to the glory of God. 



MAMMON, 209 

As far as his means enable him, he will 
pray only to give, and give only to pray. His 
every prayer will contain a petition for a more 
abundant outpouring of the spirit of Christian 
liberality and dedication ; and the very feeling 
which impelled him to utter the petition shall 
impel him when he arises from his knees to de- 
vise liberal things. And then, having gratified 
the divine impulse to the utmost extent of his 
means, he will hasten to unload his grateful 
heart before God, and to say, " Who am I, that 
I should be able to offer so willingly after this 
sort 1 for all things come of thee, and of thine 
own have we given thee." Nay, could he com- 
mand and set in motion all the benevolent agen- 
cies in the universe, the same god-like motive 
which led him to do so would then impel him 
to the throne of God to obtain his efficacious 
blessing upon the whole. Having put all hu- 
man agency in requisition, he would labour and 
wrestle in prayer to engage the infinite love and 
power of God. 

He will receive every accredited applicant 
for the cause of Christ, as a messenger deputed 
from Christ himself. And, as if his blessed 
Lord were standing before him, and saying, " I 
am hungry, will you not feed me! I am thirsty, 
will you not give me drink ? I am a stranger, 
will you not take me in ? My cause is languish- 
ing for want of support, will you not aid it V\ 
He will hasten to bring forth his all, and say, 
" O Lord, my God, all this store cometh of thy 
hand, and is all thine own." In doing this, 
14 



210 MAMMON. 

indeed, he would only be copying the example of 
the benevolent widow ; but though that example 
received the sanction of Christ, and as such was 
intended to be more than admired by his church, 
yet who could imitate it at present without in- 
curring, not from the world only, but from the 
great majority of Christian professors also, the 
blame of great improvidence ? But, then, her 
conduct shall be regarded as exemplary ; and 
the Saviour himself will undertake the defence 
of her imitators, and say, " They loved much, 
for they have much forgiven." 

Now, the Christian professor too commonly 
allows his regular contribution to check his li- 
berality, to prevent his giving more than the 
stipulated sum, though there are times when 
his benevolent impulses would prompt him to 
exceed that sum ; then he will regard his sub- 
scription only as a pledge that he will not give 
less, but as leaving his liberality open to all the 
impulses of an unrestricted benevolence. Now 
he is too often disposed to shun the applications 
for charity, and, if he is overlooked and passed 
by, to view it as a fortunate escape ; but then he 
will do good as he hath opportunity— eventing the 
opportunity which he cannot find already made 
to his hands. Now his ability exceeds his in- 
clination ; but then his inclination will be greater 
than his ability ; like the Macedonian Christians 
of whom the apostle testifies, " I bear them re- 
cord that to their power, yea, and beyond their 
power, they were willing of themselves." In- 
stead of being charitable only on comparative 



MAMMON. 211 

distraint, he will often anticipate application, 
and surprise the agents of beneficence by un- 
expected gifts ; thus strengthening their faith in 
God, and inciting them to enlarge their designs 
for the kingdom of Christ : like the same be- 
lievers of whom the apostle records, that, in- 
stead of needing to be solicited, they entreated 
him to accept their contributions — " praying us 
with much entreaty to accept the gift." Like 
the happy parent of a happy family, he will hail 
every new-born claim on his resources, and 
cheerfully deny himself in order to support it. 
And, instead of giving as he now does, as 
scantily as if he only aimed to keep the Chris- 
tian cause from famishing, he will then act on 
the persuasion that his own enjoyment is iden- 
tified with its growth and prosperity. 

And let it not be supposed that during that 
happy period it will be necessary to the support 
of the Christian interest that its friends should 
live in a state of comfortless self-denial. The 
prevalence of the benevolent spirit will render 
this superfluous. When the thousand drains of 
selfishness are cut off, the cause of Christ will 
easily find an abundance from his friends, and 
will leave an abundance to them all. When 
every man brings his all to Christ, every man 
will be able to take away with him again an am- 
ple supply for his most comfortable subsistence. 
When every fresh convert to Christ becomes a 
willing supporter of his interest, the accession 
of numbers will increase its supplies more ra- 
pidly than its wants. 



212 MAMMON. 

0, happy period ! Holiness to the Lord shall 
be written not only on common things, but on 
those which men have been accustomed most 
jealously to withhold from God, and to consider 
their own. Even the mines of the earth shall, 
in a sense, be ceded to Christ ; " the God of the 
w T hole earth shall he be called ;" and " every- 
one shall submit themselves unto him with 
pieces of silver." He shall be considered the 
wise man, not who keeps most, but who gives 
most to God ; and the happiness of bestowing 
shall be rated above the pleasure of acquiring. 
Happy period ! when men, instead of making 
gold their god, shall make God their gold : and 
when the principles of benevolence shall be 
looked on as a science taught from heaven, the 
practice of which is necessary to conduct them 
to heaven. The living law of benevolence writ- 
ten in the heart will operate more powerfully 
than all the sumptuary laws which were ever 
enacted to restrain the extravagance of society. 
The cause of Christ will be viewed as the only 
safe repository of wealth ; as the great interest 
in which the affluent will invest their abun- 
dance, and in which the poor will deposite their 
mite, assured that it will thus augment to a trea- 
sure exceeding their powers of computation. 
And wealth, the pernicious influence of which 
some of the wisest of men have feared so much 
that they have prohibited the use of it by law — 
wealth, the great embroiler and corrupter of the 
world, will be employed as one of the leading 
means of restoring mankind to union and happi- 



MAMMON. 213 

ness ; and thus Christ will triumph over the 
enemy in its own home, and with its own wea- 
pons. 



SECTION II. 

CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 

And why should the delightful period to 
which we have adverted, when the gospel 
theory of Christian benevolence shall be 
realized, be deemed remote ? The duties of 
that period are the duties of every period ; and, 
therefore, of the present. The obligations which 
will be binding then are binding at this mo- 
ment. No new incitements to benevolence will 
be furnished from heaven. The great con- 
siderations with which the gospel has long since 
made us familiar are the identical motives which 
will then reign and triumph. Remote, therefore, * 
as that era may be to the eye of the indolent 
and the selfish, the consistent believer will not 
think of waiting for its arrival before he begins 
its duties ; he will feel that those duties are all 
present and urgent. May a review of the ten- 
der and weighty considerations by which they 
are enforced fill him with generous and grateful 
purposes, such as he never felt before ; and may 
God, the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of love and 
grace, condescend to breathe on him the breath 
of a new life, that he may henceforth live only 
to carry those purposes into effect to the glory 
of Christ his Redeemer ! 



214 MAMMON. 

In every question of duty, your first inquiry, 
Christian reader, will naturally respect the will 
of God. Before listening to any other consi- 
deration, you will lift up an imploring eye, and 
say, " Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ?" 
Now there is no subject on which God has 
more clearly or fully revealed his will than on 
the duty of Christian liberality. 

Think of the right which he has in all you pos- 
sess. There is a sense in which no man can 
be said to possess an exclusive and irresponsi- 
ble right in property, even in relation to his 
fellow-creatures. The land which he calls his 
own is still guarded and watched over by a 
public law which would hold him responsible 
for its destruction. But if man thus claims a 
common interest in the most independent de- 
scription of property, how much more does God 
hold a right in your possessions ? He created 
them at first ; and hence he has an original and 
supreme property in them. . The world is his, 
and the fulness thereof. He continues them in 
existence every moment ; and is thus every 
moment asserting afresh his original right, and 
establishing a new title to dominion over them. 
You have not brought into existence a single 
mite : all that that you have done is to collect 
together what he had made ready to your hands. 
And whence did you derive the skill and ability 
to do this ? " Thou must remember the Lord 
thy God, for it is he that giveth thee power to 
get wealth." Here he cautions you against the 
sin of " saying in your heart, My power, and 



MAMMON. 2 15 

the might of mine own hand, hath gotten me 
this wealth," lest you should fall into the con- 
sequent sin of forgetting that he is still the 
supreme Proprietor of all you possess. And 
hence too he solemnly reminds you that your 
enjoyments are his gifts, only in the sense that 
you had nothing wherewith to purchase them, 
and not in the sense that he has given away his 
right in them ; that they are deposited with you 
as his steward, not alienated from him and vested 
in you as their master ; that both they and you 
are his to do with as seemeth good in his 
sight. 

The moment you lose sight, therefore, of his 
absolute right to all you possess, you are em- 
bezzling your Lord's property, and realizing the 
character of the unjust steward. You are pro- 
voking God to resume his own, and to transfer 
it to more faithful hands. Whereas he looks to 
you to assert his dominion in the midst of an un- 
grateful and rebellious world. The purpose for 
which he created you at first, and for which he 
has created you anew in Christ Jesus, is, that 
you might show forth his praise before a world 
labouring to forget him; that while they are 
sullenly and impiously appropriating every thing 
to themselves as if he had ceased to reign and 
even to exist, you might continually consecrate 
and offer up your substance before their eyes as 
an oblation to his glory, and thus daily vindicate 
his claims, as the fire perpetually burning upon 
the Jewish altar protested daily against the 
idolatry of the world, and proclaimed the one 



216 MAMMON, 

living and true God. And will } f ou not do this % 
Surely you will not go over and join the party 
you are intended to condemn. Surely you will 
not betray your Lord, and enable his enemies 
to triumph. Then hasten to his throne, and 
acknowledge his right. Take all that you have 
into his presence, and dedicate it afresh to his 
service. Inscribe his blessed name on all your 
possessions* 

Think of the great goodness you enjoy at his 
hands. His tender mercies are over all his 
works ; but how many of those mercies has he 
Gaused to meet upon your head ! " He daily 
loadeth you with his benefits -" and will you 
bear them all away from his presence to con- 
sume them upon yourself? will you distribute 
none of the precious load among the numerous 
applicants he has placed around you ? " He 
crowneth thee with his loving-kindness and 
tender mercies f and wearing a crown of his 
royal favour, his sovereign love, will you con- 
fine its light to yourself 1 will you not proclaim 
the honour and royalty of your descent by 
humbly imitating his regal munificence and 
grace? He has placed you in a world of which 
his own description is, that it is full of his good- 
ness — the treasury of the material universe. 
Men have filled it with sin ; but he notwith- 
standing keeps it filled with his goodness. The 
overflowing fulness of the ocean — the amplitude 
of the all-encompassing air — the unconfined 
plenitude of the light — all conspire to attest the 
infinite exuberance of his bounty, and to sur- 



MAMMON** 217 

charge your heart with corresponding senti- 
ments of goodness. To be selfish in such a 
world is one of the greatest triumphs of sin. 
Covetousness cannot move in it without being 
rebuked at every step. Had your life been 
spent till to-day in the solitude and darkness of 
a dungeon, and had you now just come forth into 
the open theatre of the vast creation, and awoke 
for the first time to the full consciousness of all 
this infinite goodness, would not your heart 
enlarge and expand with all warm and generous 
emotions? Could you speedily indulge in self- 
ishness in a world which you found supported 
by charity ? and by charity so abundant that the 
divine Donor seems to have aimed to make the 
sin impossible ? His rain would surely baptize 
you with the spirit of love : his sun would melt 
you into kindness. This is why he sheds 
them both upon the just and the unjust. And 
will you not aspire to be like him ? Will you 
not become the servant of his love to his crea- 
tures ? Can you live day after day in this 
region of his goodness — can you have the en- 
nobling conception of his goodness occupying 
your mind year after year — can you actually 
call yourself a son of this good and gracious 
God, an heir of his infinite goodness, and yet 
retain a narrow, selfish, and contracted mind 1 
The Lord Jesus himself calls on you to be mer- 
ciful even as your Father in heaven is mer- 
ciful. 

But hitherto we have been standing only on 
the threshold of the temple of his goodness. 



218 MAMMON. 

The great display, the " unspeakable gift" 
remains within. Your misery as a sinner had 
excited his compassion ; your guilt demanded a 
sacrifice ; your spiritual destitution had nothing 
to offer. Approach the altar of sacrifice ; and 
behold the substitute which his grace provides. 
" God so loved the world that he gave his only be- 
gotten Son." " Herein is love ! " The universe 
is crowded with proofs of his beneficence ; but 
here is a proof which outweighs them all. 
How much he loved us we can never compute ; 
we have no line with which to fathom, no stand- 
ard with which to compare it, but he so loved 
us that he sent his only begotten Son to be the 
propitiation for our sins. " Herein is love !" 
" Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable 

gin." 

And while you are standing in the presence 
of this matchless display of love, " what doth 
the Lo^d require of thee ?" For yourself, he 
invites you to accept that love and be happy. 
And in relation to your fellow-men, he only 
requires that the stream of gratitude which his 
great love has drawn from your heart should be 
poured into that channel in which a tide of 
mercy is rolling through the world, and bearing 
blessings to the nations. He who for your sake 
gave his Son, asks you for his sake to give of 
your worldly substance to the cause of human 
happiness. He asks you, Christian, to cast in 
your mite into that treasury into which he hath 
given his Son, and poured all the blessings of his 
grace. 



MAMMON. 219 

Nor is this all : he invites you to advance 
from the altar of sacrifice to the holiest of all 
within the veil ; — in other words, he hath given 
you Christ that he may give you himself. It 
was by wandering from him that man first be- 
came selfish and unhappy. It was by losing 
him that man was reduced to the necessity of 
looking for happiness in the creature. And, 
because no single kind of created good can 
satisfy the soul, man sought to accumulate all 
kinds, to monopolize every thing — he became 
selfish. He is disposed to look on every thing 
which another enjoys as so much lost to him- 
self ; as so much taken away from what might 
otherwise have fallen to his own share ; and 
thus he is selfish. But the blessed God, by 
offering to bring you back again to himself, is 
offering to make you independent of all inferior 
things ; to put you in possession of a good 
which shall enable you to look down with dis- 
dain on those things about which others are 
selfish ; to lead you to an infinite good ; a good, 
therefore, about which you need not be selfish, 
for were all the universe to share and enjoy it 
with you, it would still be an unexhausted infinite 
fulness of happiness. 

Now let the most miserly individual come 
suddenly into the possession of great wealth, he 
would be conscious, at least for a short time, of 
kind and generous emotions. What then should 
be your emotions at discovering that, through 
Christ, you have found a God ? And think, 
what a God he is ! Enumerate his perfections ; 



220 MAMMO& 

call up in your mind his exalted attributes ; 
recollect some of the displays of his glory, 
the splendours of his throne, the amplitude of 
his dominions, the angelic orders of his king- 
dom, the richness of his gifts, the untouched 
ocean of happiness yet in reserve for his people 
— and when your mind is filled, repeat to your- 
self the wondrous truth, " This God is my God 
for ever and ever." And, then, think what it is 
to have him for your God : it is to have a real, 
participating, eternal interest in all that he is ; 
to have him for your " all in all ;" to be "filled 
with all the fulness of God." 

Christian, are you aware of your wealth ? 
have you yet awoke to a conscious possession 
of your infinite wealth ? and is it possible that 
you can still cleave to the poor and perishing 
dross of earth ? What, shall the accession of 
infinite wealth make no difference in your con- 
duct 1 Will you be as covetous with a God as 
without ? Do you not feel, rather, that you 
could give away the world itself as a trifle 
while you stand and gaze at these infinite 
riches ? All who have truly and fully returned 
to God have felt thus. They lost their selfish- 
ness. They gazed on this glory, and the 
world was eclipsed ; they thought of it, and 
their heart became too large for earth ; they 
reached after it, and the world fell from their 
hands, from their hearts. Having found the 
true source of happiness, they would fain have 
had all mankind to come and share it with 
them. And when he commanded them to call 



MAMMON. 221 

the world to come to him and be happy, they 
gave away every thing, even life itself, in the 
noble employ, and from love to his name. 

The obligations which his love has laid you 
under are as great as theirs. But how much 
less, it is to be feared, have you felt them. And 
yet they felt them less than their magnitude 
would have warranted. For when their eman- 
cipated spirits had ascended from the scene of 
martyrdom to heaven — when they there awoke 
to a clear preception of the hell they had 
escaped, and the glories they had reached — 
even he among them who on earth had been 
most alive to a sense of his obligations would 
feel as if he then felt them for the first time. 
And is all that weight of obligation at this mo- 
ment resting upon you? O, where are the 
numbers which shall compute it ? What is the 
period long enough to recount it ? " What can 
you render unto the Lord for all his benefits ?" 
What sacrifices can you devise costly enough 
to express your sense of them ? Christian, could 
you have supposed that your property would be 
accepted as one of those sacrifices ? Had he 
not condescended to invite the offering, could 
you have imagined that any amount, or any em- 
ployment, of earthly wealth, would have been ac- 
cepted by him ? It is one of the lowest expressions 
of love you can give ; yet he accepts even that. 
Though there is no proportion whatever be- 
tween the debt you owe him, and all the wealth 
of the world, he yet condescends to regard the 
smallest fraction of that wealth as an expression 



222 MAMMON. 

of your love to his name. Let this, then, dig? 
nify wealth in your eyes : value it henceforth on 
this account, that the Lord will accept it at 
your hands as an offering of love. Rejoice that 
you have found out an oblation which he will 
accept short of the sacrifice of your life. Be 
thankful, though you may have but little with 
which to present him. Practise self-denial, 
that you may make that little more. Seek out 
the right objects for it, the objects which you 
deem to be the dearest in his sight. Give to 
them all you can ; for could you give ten thou- 
sand times more, your obligations would go on 
increasing infinitely faster than your gifts. 
They are multiplying on you even while you are 
in the act of giving. Give under a grateful 
sense of your obligations ; and you will feel 
that giving itself is a benefit ; that it is an 
act in which you receive more than you render. 
But to increase your incentives to charity, 
your heavenly Father has laid on you his divine 
commands. He charges it upon you that you 
" do good unto all men ;" that you " put on 
bowels of mercy ;" that you " abound " in the 
grace of "liberality;" that you " be ready to 
distribute, willing to communicate." And in 
saying this, he is only commanding you to be 
happy, and to communicate happiness. He has 
often represented charity in his word as equiva- 
lent with relative righteousness ; by which he 
would intimate that it is a principal part of such 
righteousness. Where the second table of the 
law is abridged, and its duties summed up in a 



MAMMON. 223 

few words, charity is not only never omitted 
but always takes the lead. In all general de- 
scriptions of piety, the practice of this duty is 
specified as a chief element. It is declared to 
be the most acceptable expression of our love to 
God. The choicest blessings, blessedness 
itself, the essence of all blessings combined, is 
promised to it. And in the last great day, 
when the Son of man, shall sit in judgment on 
the world, the presence or absence of Christian 
benevolence is described by our Lord as deter- 
mining the destinies of men. Now these are 
only so many methods by which God would 
render the expression of his will the more em- 
phatical, and urge us to obey it. 

In consecrating your substance to him, then, 
you will be not only gratifying your sense of 
obligation, you will feel also that you are obey- 
ing the will of your God on a subject on which 
he is most earnest and express. And what 
should furnish a stronger impulse, or yield you 
higher delight, than this ? In heaven, his will 
is the only motive to obedience which is neces- 
sary. And will you not rejoice in an occasion 
which joins you with angels in " doing his 
commandments ?" Hasten, then, to take your 
offering before him ; he is waiting the presenta- 
tion of your gift. The hand of his holy law 
is laid upon a portion of your property ; surely 
you will not think of taking any of that portion 
away ; rather, add to it ; let him see that your 
love is not so easily satisfied as his law ; that 
your gratitude goes beyond his command ; that 



224 MAMMON. 

were it possible for his law to be repealed, the 
love which you bear to his blessed name would 
still be a law constantly demanding fresh sacri- 
fices for his altar. 

In its inculcations of beneficence, the Bible 
appeals to a principle of ' well-regulated self-inter- 
est. Instead of taking it for granted that we 
should be enamoured of duty for its own sake 
alone, our heavenly Father evinces the kindest 
consideration of our fallen condition, by accom- 
panying his commands with appropriate promi- 
ses and blessings. He graciously allures us to 
cultivate the tree of Christian charity, by engag- 
ing that all its fruit shall be our own. " He who 
soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully." 
"God is not unrighteous, to forget your work 
and labour of love." 

The most marked interpositions and signal 
blessings even of earthly prosperity have attend- 
ed the practice of Christian liberality in every 
age. Volumes might easily be filled with well- 
attested instances of the remarkable manner in 
which God has honoured and rewarded those 
who in faith and obedience have devoted 
their property to him. Alas ! that the Chris- 
tian church should feel so little interest in 
recording such instances to the glory of its 
Lord ! that we should be so slow of heart to 
believe them when they are recorded ! — for 
what do they prove but only that God is not 
unrighteous to forget his promises ? — and that 
his people should give him so little opportunity 
of illustrating his paternal character by trusting 



MAMMON, 22l> 

their temporal affairs more completely to his 
hands. 

Spiritual prosperity is inseparable from Chris- 
tian liberality. For " God loveth a cheerful 
giver : and God is able to make all grace 
abound toward you ; that ye, always having all 
sufficiency in all things, may abound to every 
good work." As often as you practise this duty 
in an evangelical spirit, you must be conscious 
that the best part of your sanctified nature is 
called into exercise ; your heart is partially dis- 
charged of its remaining selfishness ; your 
mind is braced more for Christian activity ; your 
sympathy causes you to feel afresh your alli- 
ance with man ; your beneficence enables you 
to rejoice in your union of spirit with Christ, 
and adds a new bond to that power of affection 
which ¥m&s yen to his cause. And while other 
duties bring you nearer to Christ, this may be 
said at once to place you by his side, and to 
exalt you into a real though humble imitator of 
his divine benevolence. 

The Christian, moreover, is assured that the 
property which he devotes to God is so much 
treasure laid up in heaven, so much seed des- 
tined to fructify into a harvest of eternal enjoy- 
ment. Christian, would you render your pro- 
perty secwre f place it in the hand of omnipotent 
faithfulness. Retain it in your own possession, 
and it is the proper emblem of uncertainty ; but 
devote it to God, and from that moment it is 
stamped with his immutability, his providence 
becomes your estate, and his word your unfail- 
15 



226 MAMMON. 

ing security. Would you enjoy your substance ? 
" Give alms of such things as ye have ; and, 
behold, all things are clean unto you." The 
oblation of your first-fruits unto God will cleanse, 
and sanctify, and impart a superior relish to all 
you possess. Like the first Christians, you will 
then eat your meat with gladness and singleness 
of heart. Would you increase your property? 
" Honour the Lord with thy substance, so shall 
thy barns be filled with plenty, and thy presses 
shall burst out with new wine." " For this 
thing the Lord thy God shall bless thee in all thy 
works, and in all that thou puttest thy hand unto." 
Sow your substance, then, as seed in the hand 
of Christ — that hand which fed the multitude 
with a morsel, and which multiplies whatever it 
touches with its own infinite bounty. Would 
you grow in grace ? in love and likeness to 
Christ? Would you increase with all the 
increase of God ? and abound in the fruits of the 
Spirit ? " The liberal soul shall be made fat, and 
he that watereth shall be watered also himself." 
Would you be rich for eternity ? Would you 
cultivate " fruit that may abound to your account'' 
in the invisible world ? Invest your property in 
the cause of Christ ; and he engages to requite 
you, — not, indeed, as of debt ; this the magnitude 
of the requital shows ; but of his own exuberant 
munificence, — he promises to repay you a hun- 
dredfold in the present life, and in the world to 
come, life everlasting. As much of your pro- 
perty as you have already devoted to him, how- 
ever humble you may think of it, is regarded 



MAMMON. 227 

and watched over by him as u a good foundation 
laid up against the time to come, that you may 
lay hold on eternal life." And all that you may 
hereafter cast into his treasury shall certainly 
precede your arrival in heaven, and there be 
converted for you into incorruptible treasures 
"to the praise of the glory of his grace." 

Is the welfare of your posterity an object? 
The parent who makes this an excuse for 
robbing the cause of God of its due is defraud- 
ing his offspring of God's blessing, entailing on 
them the divine displeasure, leaving them heirs 
of the punishment which his own robbery of God 
has deserved. This is improvidence of the 
most awful kind. But let your regard for their 
wants be combined with a proportionate regard 
for the claims of benevolence, and you will be 
demising to your offspring that rich, that inex- 
haustible inheritance, the inheritance of God's 
blessing. Providence will look on them as its 
own wards : will care for them as its own 
children. 

Do you desire to be remembered, to enjoy 
lasting fame ? " The righteous shall be had 
in everlasting remembrance." " The memory 
of the just is blessed." And here, by the 
righteous and the just, is to be understood espe- 
cially the bountiful. His memory is followed 
with commendations into the presence of God. 
His character is embalmed in its own piety. 
His name passes with commendation through 
the lips of God, and that gives it immortality. 
His benevolence resulted from the grace of 



228 MAMMON. 

God ; and, as such, the honour of God is con* 
cerned in making his memory immortal. 

Would you acquire a right in your property 1 
a right which shall justify you in calling it 
your own 1 By withholding it from God, you 
are forfeiting all interest in it, and laying your- 
self open to the charge of embezzlement and 
fraud. But by devoting it to his service, you 
would be acquiring an everlasting interest in it ; 
for you would never cease to enjoy the good 
resulting from its divine employment. Hence 
the solution of the epitaph of a charitable man, 
" What I retain I have lost, what I gave away 
remains with me." 

By the practice of Christian liberality, the 
glory of God and the credit of religion are pro- 
moted ; — and what object should be of more 
precious and abiding concern to the believer 
than this ? " The administration of this service 
not only supplieth the want of the saints, but is 
abundant also by many thanksgivings unto God : 
while by the experiment of this ministration 
they glorify God for your professed subjection 
unto the gospel of Christ, and for your liberal 
distribution unto them and to all men." The 
new-born liberality of the first Christians for the 
support of their needy brethren threw the church 
into a holy transport of delight. It was bring- 
ing the benevolent power of Christianity to the 
test ; and, as a masterpiece of human mechanism, 
when tried and found to exceed expectation, fills 
the beholders with delight — the result of " the 
experiment of this ministration" was such as 



MAMMON. 229 

to call forth songs of exultation to the glory of 
God. It displayed the gospel in a new aspect, 
brought to light its benevolent energies, showed 
them that, much as they knew of its virtues, it 
contained hidden excellences which it would 
require time and circumstances to involve and 
display : it filled the church with a chorus of 
praise to the glory of God. 

For what but his grace could produce such 
liberality 1 It was supernatural ; the apostle, 
therefore, emphatically denominates it the grace 
of God. So spontaneous and munificent was it, 
that it resembled the gifts of his grace. So 
purely did it result from love to the brethren, 
from the overflowings of tender compassion for 
their wants, that it was truly godlike. So un- 
paralleled and unworldly an act was it, that the 
grace of God alone could produce it. It was 
grace from the Fountain flowing forth in streams 
of liberality through the channels of his people. 
As if it were the noblest form that the love of 
God could take to his people, he confers on it 
this crowning title, the grace of God. And, 
indeed, it would be easy to show that there is 
scarcely any duty so purely the result of grace 
as genuine Christian liberality ; that the prac- 
tice of it, on any thing like the primitive scale, 
requires more grace, and exercises and illus- 
trates a greater number of the principles of piety, 
than almost any other duty. The church can- 
not witness it without being strongly reminded 
of her high descent, her unearthly character ; 
without falling down afresh before the throne of 



230 MAMMON. 

Him whose constraining love thus triumphs over 
the selfishness of humanity. The world cannot 
witness it without feeling its own selfishness 
condemned, without secretly bowing to the 
divinity of religion. 

Christian, would you enjoy the most endear- 
ing evidences of your heavenly Father's love ? 
Place your property at his disposal, and daily 
trust him for daily provision. If his character 
be paternal, your character should be filial ; and 
the leading feature of that is unlimited depend- 
ance. Would you honour him in his church ? 
Copy the example of " the churches of Mace- 
donia" in their abundant liberality ; and you 
will provoke some of your fellow-Christians to 
emulation, and send others with grateful hearts 
into the presence of God, and assist in enlarging 
the sphere of evangelical labour, and raise the 
standard of Christian piety, and cause the 
church of Christ to resound with the high 
praises of his constraining love. And would you 
glorify God before the world ? Let the light of 
your Christian liberality shine before men. 
Not only practise the duty, but practise it on such 
a scale as shall proclaim to them the existence of 
a superintending Providence, and convince them 
of your reliance on its care. Devise liberal things 
for the cause of God, and you will thus be assert- 
ing the quarrel of your heavenly Father with an 
unbelieving world : vindicating and attesting 
the faithfulness of his word, the watchfulness 
of his love, and the benevolent power of his holy 
gospel. Withdraw your trust from those goods 



MAMMON. 231 

in which the ungodly confide, resign them to 
God, and thus you will be affording him an oc- 
casion for displaying his paternal love. He 
charges you to be careful for nothing, that he 
may evince his carefulness of you. 

Of the poor it is said, that he who oppresseth 
them reproacheth his Maker ; — charges God 
with injustice for permitting them to be poor, 
and for devolving their maintenance on him ; 
insults God in the person of the poor, by re- 
fusing to charge himself with the care of them, 
though sent to him with promise direct from 
God, and thus, though God meant to employ the 
rich as his agents for the poor, to bind them to 
each other by the constant interchange of gra- 
titude and benevolence, and to illustrate and 
honour his providential government, the selfish- 
ness of man frustrates his plans, and turns his 
honour into a reproach. In a very similar 
manner, he has devolved the Christian interest 
on his people, and the world is watching their 
conduct in relation to it. If they treat it as a 
burden, God will deem himself reproached ; but 
let them meet its demands, and enrich it with 
their liberality, and the power of his gospel and 
the wisdom of his arrangements will be seen : 
the world will render him the homage of its 
silent admiration, and his church will triumph 
in every place. 

The great gospel argument for Christian libe- 
rality is the divine example of the Redeemer's love. 
" Hereby perceive we his love," — as if every 
other display of love were eclipsed by the 



232 MAMJTOT. 

efifafgence of this ; as if all possible illustrations 
of love were summed up in this, — " Hereby 
perceive we his love, because he laid down his 
life for us : and we ought to lay down our lives 
for the brethren." " But whoso hath this world's 
good, and seeth his brother have need, and 
shutteth up his bowels of compassion from him, 
how dwelleth the love of God in him ?" How 
can the lover of Christ inhabit that bosom which 
is a stranger to sympathy for his people ? Ill 
indeed does he pretend readiness to die for Christ, 
who will not give a little money toward the sup- 
port of his cause and people. 

When the Apostle Paul would enjoin the Phi- 
lippians to " look not every man on his own 
things, but every man also on the things of 
others," he points them to "the mind which 
was also in Christ Jesus : who, being in the 
form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal 
with God : but made himself of no reputation, 
and took upon him the form of a servant, and 
was made in the likeness of men : and being 
found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, 
and became obedient unto death, even the death 
of the cross." He does not content himself 
with merely stating the fact of our Lord's con- 
descension and death ; but, as if he loved to 
linger on the subject, he traces it from stage to 
stage ; as if the immensity of the stoop which 
Christ made were too great to be comprehended 
at once, he divides it into parts, and follows 
him downward from point to point till he has 
reached the lowest depth of his humiliation ; 



MAMMON. 233 

as if he felt convinced that the amazing spec-- 
tacle, if duly considered, could not fail to anni- 
hilate selfishness in every other heart, as it had 
in his own, the only anxiety he evinces is, that 
it should be seen, be vividly presented before 
the eye of the mind. Having carried our 
thoughts up to that infinite height where Christ 
had been from eternity in the bosom of the Fa- 
ther, he shows us the Son of God divesting 
himself of his glory ; and then he detains our 
eye in a prolonged gaze on his descending 
course ; condescending to be born ; volun- 
tarily subjecting himself to all the humbling 
conditions of our nature ; taking on himself 
the responsibilities of a servant ; still humbling 
himself, still passing from one depth of igno- 
miny to a lower still ; becoming obedient unto 
death ; and that death the most humbling, the 
most replete with agony and shame — the death 
of the cross. 

Christian, can you ever contemplate this won- 
derful exhibition without renewed emotions of 
love ? without feeling afresh that you are not 
your own ? And say, ought such grace in 
Christ to be requited with parsimony in his fol- 
lowers ? Ought such a Master to be served by 
grudging and covetous servants 1 Ought such 
a Saviour to have to complain that those who 
have been redeemed, and who know they have 
been redeemed, not with corruptible things, 
such as silver and gold, but with his own most 
precious blood, are so much attached to that 
corruptible wealth that they will not part with 



234 MAMMON. 

it, though urged by the claims of that most 
precious blood 1 O, shame to humanity ! O, 
reproach to the Christian name ! Be concern- 
ed, Christian, to wipe off the foul stain. Bring 
forth your substance, and spread it before him. 
Were you to give up all to him, would it be 
very reprehensible, or very uiiac countable, con- 
sidering that he gave up all for you 1 At least, 
economize for Christ. Retrench, retrench your 
expenditure that you may be able to increase 
your liberality. Deny, deny yourself for his 
cause, as you value consistency, as you profess 
to be a follower of Him " who his own self 
bare our sins in his own body on the tree." 

In his second epistle to the Corinthians, we 
find the apostle enforcing the practice of Chris- 
tian liberality ; and various and cogent are the 
motives which he adduces to excite their bene- 
volence. But we might rest assured that it 
would not be long before he introduced the mo- 
tive of our Lord's example. The love of Christ 
was the actuating principle of his own conduct ; 
it influenced him more than all other motives 
combined. If ever his ardour in the path of duty 
flagged for a moment, he glanced at the cross, 
thought of the great love wherewith Christ had 
loved him, and instantly girded on his zeal 
afresh. In addressing others, therefore, he 
never failed to introduce this motive, he relied 
on it as his main strength, he brought it to bear 
upon them in all its subduing and constraining 
force. 

And how tender, how pointed, how melting 



MAMMON. 235 

the appeal which he makes. " Ye know the 
grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, though he 
was rich, yet, for your sakes, he became poor, 
that ye, through his poverty, might be rich." 
You know the height from which he stooped. 
You know the depth of humiliation to which he 
descended ; that he found no resting-place be- 
tween his throne and the cross. You know for 
whom he did this ; for his enemies, his destroy- 
ers. You know that he did this voluntarily, 
that he was under no necessary obligation to 
endure it ; that his own love was the only obli- 
gation ; that he welcomed each indignity, invi- 
ted each pang, made them a part of his plan of 
condescension. You know how earnestly he 
prosecuted the work of our salvation ; that, in 
every step he took, he was only gratifying the 
compassionate yearnings of his own heart ; 
that he assumed life for the express purpose of 
laying it down ; and, though he saw, as from a 
height, the whole array of duty and trial which 
awaited him, the only emotions which he 
evinced at the sight were a self-consuming 
ardour to reach the cross, which stood at the 
end of his path, a holy impatience to be baptized 
with that baptism of blood. You know the ob- 
ject for which he did it all — for your salvation ; 
that he might pour his fulness into your empti- 
ness, his riches into your poverty ; that he 
might raise you to heaven, and share with you 
the glories of his own throne. 

You know this ; not, indeed, in the sense of 
comprehending it ; that is impossible, for it is a 



236 MAMMON. 

love which passeth such knowledge. But you 
know it by report ; you have heard of it. It is 
the theme of the universe. Heaven resounds 
with it ; the church on earth is full of it ; the 
eternal Father commands it to be published 
throughout the world. And so amazing is it 
that the bare announcement of it should be suf- 
ficient to transform selfishness itself into disin- 
terested love. But youknowit experimentally. 
You can look back on a time when you were in 
a state of alienation from God bordering on per- 
dition ; you have been plucked as a brand from 
the burning ; and now you are looking forward 
to eternal life with Christ in heaven ; and you 
know that you owe your deliverance, and all 
your hopes, to the grace of Christ. You know 
what he endured for your redemption, that he 
loved you, " and gave himself for you," and will 
you withhold from him any thing in your pos- 
session? Can you believe that he died for 
you ? that, in dying, he wore your name upon 
his breast ? that his heart cherished the thought 
of your happiness ? that he made himself poor 
to enrich you ? and will you not freely contri- 
bute of your worldly substance to diffuse the 
knowledge of his grace? 

Did he employ his heavenly powers solely for 
your salvation, lay himself out for your happi- 
ness ? Yes, saith he, " For their sakes I sancti- 
fy myself. I set myself apart, I appropriate all 
I have and am to the work of their salvation." 
And he did so. When did he ever go about 
but to do good ? When did he ever open his 



MAMMON. 237 

hand but to bless ? or weep but in sympathy 
with human wo ? What object did he ever 
pursue but that of benevolence 1 imparting life 
to the dying, pardon to the guilty, purity to the 
depraved, blessings to all around him. " Let 
the same mind be in you which was also in 
Christ Jesus." He was the author of riches and 
the heir of all things ; but all he possessed he 
gave for your salvation, and all that you possess 
you should employ for his glory. You enjoy a 
portion of this world's goods ; consider the use 
which he would have made of it, and copy his 
divine example. 

Did he not only employ his heavenly powers, 
but actually deny himself, suffer, die for your 
happiness ? He pleased not himself. He en- 
dured the cross, despising the shame. He 
poured out his soul unto death. Himself he 
would not save. He would not come down from 
the cross. O ! how did he for a season annihi- 
late himself ! How did he take our place, take 
our curse, and endure it all ! That was compas- 
sion. That was looking on the things of others. 
That was benevolence, — disinterested, unparal- 
leled, matchless benevolence. Let this mind be 
in you. Never can you hope to equal it, for it 
is infinite — the grace of a God. But so much 
the greater your obligation to approach it as 
nearly as you can. 

Christian, you know his grace, you feel it. 
How much owest thou unto thy Lord ? Do 
you ever attempt to compute the mighty sum 1 
Endeavour to realize the idea ; and if then you 



238 MAMMON. 

feel any reluctance to consecrate your substance 
to him, it can only be on the ground of its utter 
insignificance. But he asks for it as an ex- 
pression of your love — yes, he asks for it. He 
comes to you every time an appeal is made to 
your Christian liberality, and, as he turns on 
you a look of benignity and love, he inquires, 
" Lovest thou me ?" And, as he points to that 
portion of your property which ought to be de- 
voted to his cause, he asks you again, " Lovest 
thou me more than this ?" If so — devote it to 
my cause, consecrate it to my service. And he 
saith unto you the third time, " Lovest thou 
me ?" If so — " feed my lambs, feed my sheep ;" 
support my poor ; aid my interest in the world ; 
encourage every effort made to bring home my 
wandering sheep ; think of the millions of them 
that are perishing, millions for whom I died ; 
shall my love be defrauded of them 1 shall I 
not behold in them the travail of my soul and be 
satisfied 1 By the love you' bear to me, and by 
the infinitely greater love I bear to you, imitate 
my love ; and you know the extent of that, " you 
know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that, 
though he was rich, for your sake he became 
poor, that you, through his poverty, might be rich." 
O, Christian, study your obligations at the 
foot of the cross. If you would imbibe the dis- 
interested and self-sacrificing benevolence of 
your blessed Lord, take your station daily at the 
cross. Never till you do this, will you feel 
the claims which he has upon you. But 
when you there see the great love wherewith 



MAMMON. 239 

he hath loved you, we will defy you to be 
covetous, inactive, selfish, in his cause. You 
cannot fail to love him ; that love cannot fail to 
constrain you ; and constrained by that, you 
will be turned into a pains-taking, self-denying, 
devoted servant of Christ ; to whom he will say 
daily, " Well done, thou good and faithful ser- 
vant ;" till the day when he will sum up all his 
grace by adding, " Enter thou into the joy of 
thy Lord." 

If you are truly a Christian, you have felt 
that you are not your own, that you are bought 
with a price ; in other words, you see so clear- 
ly, and feel so strongly, that you owe yourself 
to Christ, that you have gone to his feet and 
implored his acceptance of your soul. But the 
dedication of yourself includes the surrender of 
your property. 

It is related in Roman history that when the 
people of Collatia stipulated about their surren- 
der to the authority and protection of Rome, the 
question asked was, " Do you deliver up your- 
selves, the Collatine people, your city, your 
fields, your water, your bounds, your temples, 
your utensils, all things that are yours, both 
human and divine, into the hands of the people 
of Rome I" And on their replying, " We de- 
liver up all," — they were received. The vo- 
luntary surrender which you, Christian, have 
made to Christ, though not so detailed and spe- 
cific as this formula, is equally comprehensive. 
And do you not account those your best mo- 
ments when you feel constrained to lament that 



240 MAMMON. 

your surrender comprehends no motet Can 
you recall to mind the way in which he has re- 
deemed you, the misery from which he has 
snatched you, and the blessedness to which he 
is conducting you, without feeling that he has 
bought you a thousand times over 1 that you are 
his by the tenderest, weightiest obligations ? 
And when you feel thus, how utterly impossible 
would it be for you at such a moment to stipulate 
for an exception in favour of your property ! — 
to harbour a mental reservation in favour of that ! 
Can you think of the blessedness attending 
the act itself of dedication to God ; that you are 
wedding yourself to infinite riches, uniting your- 
self to infinite beauty, allying yourself to infinite 
excellence ; giving yourself to God, and receiv- 
ing God in return, so that henceforth all his in- 
finite resources, his providence, his Son, his 
Spirit, his heaven, he Himself, all become yours, 
to the utmost degree in which you can enjoy 
them — can you think of this without often re- 
peating the act ? without feeling that had you 
all the excellences of a myriad of angels, his 
love would deserve the eternal devotion of the 
whole ? Realize to your own mind the nature 
of Christian dedication, and the claims of Him 
who calls for it, and so far from giving penu- 
riously to his cause, you will take every increase 
of your substance into his presence and devote 
it to his praise ; you will regard every appeal 
which is made to your Christian benevolence 
as an appeal to that solemn treaty which made 
you his, and you will honour it accordingly ; 



MAMMON. 241 

you will deeply feel the penury of all riches as 
an expression of your love to him ; Lebanon 
would not be sufficient to burn, or the beasts 
thereof an offering large enough, to satisfy the 
cravings of your love. 

Think, moreover, of the high design for which 
God condescends to accept your surrender. Not 
that you may live to yourself, but entirely to 
him. Having disposed and enabled you to give 
yourself to him, he would then baptize you in the 
element of divine love, and give you to the world. 

" God so loved the world that he gave his 
only -begotten Son" to redeem it. The object, 
indeed, for which he was given was, like him- 
self, infinite ; an object which never can be 
shared, and which never need be repeated. But 
the office to which God designates every man 
from the moment of his conversion is meant to 
be a new donation to the world. The relation 
in which he places him to the world is meant 
to be a fresh expression of the same infinite 
love which prompted him to give Christ ; it is 
to be viewed as nothing less than a symbolical 
representation to the world of that unspeakable 
gift. He is not that gift, but is sent to bear wit- 
ness of that gift ; not merely to announce it with 
his lips, but to describe and commemorate its 
fulness and freeness in bis own character. 
Like his blessed Lord, he is to look upon him- 
self as dedicated to the cause of human happi- 
ness, dedicated from eternity. 

Christian, you know the grace of our Lord 
Jesus Christ — might the world infer the exist- 
16 



242 MAMMON. 

ence of his grace from your conduct ? Is your 
benevolence worthy of Him who, " though he 
was rich, for your sake became poor ?" He 
turned himself into a fountain of grace and love, 
and called you to be a Christian that you might 
be a consecrated channel of his grace to others. 
He requires all the benevolent agency of heaven 
and earth to be put into motion, in order to do 
justice to the purposes of his love ;. and he has 
called you into his service in order to increase 
that agency. Surely you are not, by the love 
of money, frustrating that design. As well for 
the perishing world had he never died for its 
salvation, if his appointed and consecrated 
agents neglect to make him known. Surely 
you are not, by living only to yourself, by wast- 
ing your property on yourself as fast as he gives 
it to you, leaving the world to infer that his 
character bore any resemblance to yours ; and 
leaving it, besides, to perish .under your eye be- 
cause an effort to save it would incur expense. 
You have not, you cannot, have so learned 
Christ. But what then are you giving ? more 
than the heathen to his idol-god ? more than the 
votary of a corrupted Christianity to the object of 
his superstitious regard ? or more than the irre- 
ligious worldling devotes to pleasure and self- 
indulgence ? " What do ye more than others ?" 
Consider also the happy influence which a spi- 
rit of Christian liberality would have on your own 
enjoyment. By taking from the flesh the means 
of self-indulgence, it would be exalting the spi- 
rit. It would be enlarging your heart, and en- 



MAMMON 243 

siobling your character, and identifying you with 
all things good, and glorious, and happy in the 
universe. Much as it might benefit the cause 
of God, it would still more minister to the wel- 
fare and happiness of your own soul. 

Devise liberal things, and by liberal things yoil 
shall stand. Taste the luxury of doing good, 
and you will regret that you began so late. Se- 
lect for imitation the loftiest examples — the few 
distinguished names whose praise is in all the 
churches — and you will be conscious of a de- 
light which an angel might be grateful to share. 
God himself is the happiest being because he is 
the most benevolent, and you would then in the 
most exalted sense be holding fellowship with 
him, you would understand experimentally the 
saying of our Lord Jesus Christ, that " it is more 
blessed to give than to receive," you would 
make all the beneficence of the world your own 
by the complacency with which you would be- 
hold it exercised and enjoyed. 

But the motives to Christian charity are end- 
less. The state of the world requires it. How 
vast its multitudes ; how urgent and awful their 
condition ; how brief the hour for benefiting 
them ; how mighty the interest pending on that 
short hour! Look where you will, your eye 
will encounter signals to be active ; myriads of 
objects, in imploring or commanding attitudes, 
urging you to come to the help of the Lord, to 
the help of the Lord against the mighty. 

The church calls for it. It has many an 
agent of mercy to send forth, if you will but aid 



244 MAMMON. 

to furnish the means. It has many a generous 
purpose in its heart, many a long-cherished and 
magnanimous project ready to leap to its lips, 
if your liberality should encourage it to speak. 
It burns with a holy impatience to reap the vast 
harvest of the heathen world which Providence 
seems to have prepared and to be keeping for 
its sickle — will you not aid to send forth more 
labourers into the harvest ? It has been slum- 
bering at its post for ages, it is now awaking 
to an alarmed consciousness of its neglected 
responsibilities, and, as it counts up its long ar- 
rears of duty, it hastens to atone for the past by 
instituting one society, and adopting one remedy 
after another, and sending its agents to plead 
for help from its members in the name of Christ 
— and will you not help it in its straits ? A pro- 
portion of its guilt is lying upon you — will you 
not aid it to retrieve the past ? and assist it to 
recover and present to the world its primitive 
aspect of love and zeal 1 

The Christians of apostolic times call for it. 
Benevolence was their characteristic. A selfish 
Christian was a contradiction of which they 
were happily ignorant. For such an anomaly 
their church had provided no place ; they would 
have cast him forth from among them as a dis- 
grace. They had the grand secret of giving up 
all for Christ, and yet accounting themselves 
rich ; the art of taking joyfully the spoiling of 
their goods ; the principle of rinding their hap- 
piness in living to God, in spending and being 
spent in his service. It would have been dif- 



MAMMON. 245 

ficult to convince them that they were in dan- 
ger of giving too freely to the cause of Christ ; 
that they were denying themselves in giving so 
much to him instead of consuming it on their 
own lusts, when they felt they were gratifying 
themselves by so doing. It would have been 
difficult to convince them that their interest was 
distinct from the interest of Christ ; or that they 
had any occasion for tears while his kingdom 
was prospering, or any reason to exult in their 
own secular prosperity if it did not subserve the 
advancement of his cause. They could not be 
depressed ; for their Lord had arisen, and was 
reigning on the throne of heaven. At that 
thought, they not only rejoiced themselves, they 
called on the universe to rejoice with them ; 
for they saw, in his exaltation, the pledge of 
the world's salvation, and of an eternity of hap- 
piness with him in heaven. What, to them, 
were a few intervening days of trial and pain 1 
They thought not of such things ! What to 
them was a question of property, whether much 
or little ? Not worth the price of a thought ! 
If they had it, they gave it to that service to 
which they had given themselves. If they had 
it not, they did not for a moment speak of it as 
a want ; or think of asking the cause of the 
world's salvation to stand still, while they were 
engaged in a scramble with the world to ob- 
tain it. The vision of heaven was in their eye ; 
and, until they reached it, their Lord had en- 
gaged to provide for all their wants, and had en- 
gaged to do this solely that they might give 



246 MAMMON. 

their undivided attention to his service. Of 
doubts and fears about their personal interest in 
his love, they appear to have known nothing ; 
that is a disease peculiar to the morbid and 
selfish piety of modern days. The element of 
activity and benevolence in which they lived, se- 
cured them against such a malady, and produced 
a race of Christians, vigorous, holy, and happy. 

And is it from such, Christian, that you pro- 
fess to have descended 1 do you claim relation- 
ship to them ? profess to represent them ? Bend- 
ing from their seats of blessedness above, they 
urge, they beseech you to cast off the worldly 
spirit in which you have hitherto indulged, and 
to take up their fallen mantle. They entreat 
you no longer to disgrace their name, nor the 
infinitely dearer name of Christ ; to renounce 
it at once as the greatest homage you can pay 
to it, or else to follow them as far as they fol- 
lowed Christ. They all expect this from you ; 
they will demand it at your hands when you 
meet them at the bar of God. 

The promises and prospects of prophecy invite 
it. Muse on the prophetic paintings of the lat- 
ter-day glory, that day without a cloud : the 
enemies of, man subdued, the disorders of the 
world hushed, all its great miseries passed 
away. Christ on his throne ; in the midst of a 
redeemed, sanctified, happy creation. All things 
sacred to his name ; all tongues rehearsing for 
the last great chorus of the universe ; all hearts 
united in holy love, and in that love offering 
themselves up as one everlasting sacrifice as- 



MAMMON, 247 

cending before him in its own flames ; new 
heavens, and a new earth wherein dwelleth 
righteousness. And is it possible that your 
agency can contribute to accelerate that blessed 
period ? These glimpses of its glory are afford- 
ed you expressly to engage your agency in its 
behalf. Not only is your instrumentality de- 
sirable, — there is a sense in which it is in- 
dispensable. All things are waiting for it. All 
things are ready but the church of Christ ; and 
until its prayers, its wealth, all its energies and 
resources are laid at the feet of Christ, all things 
must continue to wait. 

O, then, by the mercies of God, by the 
riches of his goodness toward you in nature, 
providence, and grace ; by the sacredness of the 
commands which he has laid upon you ; by a 
legitimate regard for your own well-being ; and 
by the credit of that religion whose honour 
should be dearer to you than life, we beseech 
you, Christian, to dedicate your property to God. 
By the love of Christ ; by the compassion which 
brought him from the bosom of the Father ; by 
his painful self-denial and deep humiliation ; 
by his obedience unto death, even the death of 
the cross ; O, by that mystery of love which led 
him to become poor that he might make you 
eternally rich, ask yourself, while standing at 
the cross, " How much owest thou unto thy 
Lord?" and give accordingly. By the tender 
and melting considerations which led you at 
first to surrender yourself to his claims ; by the 
benevolent purposes which God had in view 



248 mammon. 

in calling you to a knowledge of himself ; and 
by the deep and holy pleasure to be found in 
imitating his divine beneficence, look on your 
property as the Lord's, and give it freely to his 
glory. By the cries of the world perishing in 
ignorance of Christ ; by the earnest entreaties 
of the church yearning to save it from destruc- 
tion, but wanting your aid ; as you profess to 
admire the unparalleled benevolence of the first 
Christians, and to be actuated by the same prin- 
ciples ; and as you hope to behold the consum- 
mation of your Saviour's glory in the salvation 
of the world, we entreat, we adjure you to look 
on your property as given you by God to be em- 
ployed in his service, and from this day to em- 
ploy it accordingly. He who gave his only-be- 
gotten Son for your salvation — he who re- 
deemed you from the curse of the law by being 
made a curse for you — he who has breathed into 
you the breath of a new life, and is preparing 
you for heaven : the Father, the Son, and the 
Holy Spirit unite, in urging you to bring forth 
your property, and to lay it upon the altar of 
Christian sacrifice. 

And, now, Christian, what shall be the prac- 
tical effect of the truths which have been made 
to pass before you 1 Allow me, in conclusion, 
to suggest what it ought to be : and may God 
the Holy Spirit give you grace to carry it into 
practice. 

Have you, while reading the preceding pages, 
felt a single emotion of benevolence warm and 



MAMMON. 249 

expand your heart 1 Instantly gratify it. Let 
it not pass from you in an empty wish ; but im- 
mediately bring forth something to be appropri- 
ated to his glory. 

Is your benevolence destitute of plan ? Then, 
unless you can gainsay what we have advanced 
on the necessity of system, lose no time in de- 
vising one. 

Are you a stranger to self-denial in the cause 
of charity 1 Then, remember that benevolence, 
with you, has yet to be begun ; for, on Christian 
principles, there is no benevolence without self- 
denial. 

Here, then, is an object to take you at once to 
the throne of grace. O, Christian, let it lead you 
to pour out your soul in prayer before God. Con- 
fess that selfishness by which you have hitherto 
absorbed so much of that property in worldly 
indulgences, which ought to have been spent 
in his service. Ask him for the grace of self- 
denial ; that your offerings may henceforth bear 
a proportion to the magnitude of his claims. 
Beseech him to pour out his Holy Spirit upon 
you and upon all his people, as a Spirit of Chris- 
tian liberality, that " Holiness to the Lord" 
may soon be inscribed on all the property of 
his church. " He who soweth sparingly shall 
reap also sparingly ; and he who soweth bounti- 
fully shall reap also bountifully. And God lov- 
eth a cheerful giver." 

THE END, 







& %. 



■A oV 













\ 


,v^~ 








8 * . *c 




^ vv 



<- 



J^ 6 . °o 





















